


The Golden Boys

by funfan



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-01-20 15:28:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 55,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1515521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/funfan/pseuds/funfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco just joined BVB and find their way with Mario very easily. Both on and off the pitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let Me Take Care of It

**Author's Note:**

> Set back when the two of them started to play together in Dortmund.
> 
> I'm not sure where it is headed, I write it for fun and to practice my English, which isn't my native language, so please forgive me if I made any errors.

 

Marco had been at Borussia only for a week and he already managed to get injured. It was nothing serious; he suffered a load to his ankle. The physios took care of it right after the accident and they said that he should be able to return in a few days. He should have been glad that everything happened in the beginning of the summer training sessions but he wasn’t. He was actually angry and disappointed. He wanted to prove the team as early as possible that he could be the one making the difference. Instead he had to rest at home, while the others were preparing for the next season at full speed.

He was advised not to drive with his injury, and it was Mario who volunteered to take him home. Marco was quite surprised seeing the midfielder’s eagerness. It turned out though that Mario isn’t as good at navigation as he is at football. They constantly had to take by-passes despite Marco’s instructions. He thought they had even got lost once. But finally they arrived at Marco’s house.

Mario helped him up the stairs to his bedroom and offered to prepare an ice compress for him. Marco couldn’t say no. He sat on his bed while Mario was bustling about in the kitchen. After a few seconds Marco got up and walked slowly to his bag, searching for the paper the physios gave him. It had all the instructions to his quick recovery and a phone number he had to call if he needed some help with his injury. It was still too early for the pain to ease, but what wrong could come out of a little precaution?

“Hello?” a familiar voice answered after a few rings.

“Um. Mario?”

“Marco! You know you don’t have to call me from upstairs if you need something. Shouting will do the trick.” Marco could feel the sarcasm in every single word. “But how do you even know my number?”

“From the physios. It was supposed to be someone’s who could help me with my injury. I guess they must have messed up something.”

“So you think I cannot help you.” Mario’s voice came from close. Marco turned around and spotted the midfielder standing in the door, holding a bag of ice and a towel.

“Why, can you?” Marco asked and he hung up.

“You aren’t supposed to pace around in the first place.”

“I – I don’t. I just –”

“Sure, sure.” Mario cut him off. “I’ve had my fair share of strains, so I’m kinda expert on the subject. Maybe more professional than some of the physios.”

“Aren’t we a little bit overconfident?” Marco grinned.

“Try me. Lie down on the bed.” It was an order and not a request.

Marco limped to his bed and sat down, careful not to put all his weight on his injured foot. He looked at Mario, who was still standing in the door.

“You might want to take off your jeans. Or shall I do that for you?”

Marco didn’t answer, just obeyed. Taking off his socks was a much harder task, and he hissed when he accidentally touched his ankle. He didn’t look up, but he was sure Mario was grinning at him. After he finished he climbed to the centre of his bed and lay down.

He heard Mario approaching. The midfielder crouched next to his bed and carefully put the ice on his foot. The pain vanished almost instantly, but Marco knew that it would come back the moment Mario removed the compress. Meantime Mario started to massage his heel with his other hand, stretching the muscles in his foot.

“This one will hurt. A lot. But it will help.”

Marco didn’t get time to react. Mario removed the compress and twitched Marco’s foot. He winced and saw stars all around himself. It felt like he was tearing apart his ankle. But it was only a few seconds before Mario put the compress back.

“What did you do to me?” Marco asked still in much pain.

“Probably shortened your recovery time by a few days.”

“Did you?” Marco asked doubtfully. “Because it definitely feels worse.”

“It won’t for a long. It should be fine by morning. Just rest it. And please hold the ice. My hands are totally frozen.”

Marco sat up and gripped the compress. Their hands met accidentally. It looked as if Mario blushed just for a moment. But Marco wasn’t sure whether it actually happened.

“So I guess I’m done here.” Mario said, drying his hands. “If you need anything, call me. I’ll get it to you in the morning.”

“Assuming you don’t get lost.” Marco murmured.

“Oh, really? Do you want me to torture you once more?” Mario asked putting his hand just a few centimetres above Marco’s ankle.

“I thought it was treatment.”

“Well, it was. But you should have seen your face!” Mario grinned and it was Marco’s time to blush. “I’m kidding.” Mario added noticing Marco’s embarrassment. “Look, if there’s nothing else, I gotta go –”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks again, Mario.”

“You’re welcome. And don’t forget – if you need something, just call me.” Mario said and left. He shouted back from the hallway. “And rest it!”

 

 * * *

 

The next morning Marco had to admit that Mario was right. His ankle felt much better than he had expected. Actually he thought he was ready to train even if he knew it wasn’t the case. He stayed at home and watched movies. After the afternoon training Mario visited him.

“How are you doing?” the midfielder asked.

“Quite well. Maybe I should go training tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t do so. Your ankle needs time to recover.” Mario said with a serious look.

“I know. It just makes me upset.”

“Come on. It’s been one day!” Mario grinned.

“I know, but still – I hate doing nothing. How was the training?”

“Just the ordinary. There’s Kloppo full of new ideas and expectations. There’s us full of stories to share. Just a strict teacher trying to maintain discipline in his cheeky class.”

“Tell me about it.” Marco said, unable to hide his frustration. He didn’t know what was ordinary at the BVB and he wasn’t going to learn it if he kept getting injured pointlessly. But after all, every injury was pointless.

“What’s wrong? You weren’t this sour yesterday when I  _tortured_ you.”

“You’re not letting me forget it, huh?” Marco smiled. “I’m just disappointed. I want to prove so much, but –”

“And you will.” Mario slapped him on the back. “Jesus, Marco, be patient. You cannot take over the world in one day.”

“I guess you are right.”

Marco was really grateful for Mario’s company. He planned to spend some time at his parents’, but he thought they wouldn’t fully understand him. No one had understood him wholly. But now, he had Mario at his side, supporting him after just a few days of real acquaintance. It was weird, but Marco felt as if they had been friends all their lives.

“The rumour is that we’ll get a day-off for the weekend.” Mario changed the subject. “We’re planning on grabbing a beer or two with the guys. You should come.”

“I don’t know.” Marco smiled. “I kind of have to consult my doctor.”

“Your doctor is gonna break your leg if you stay here!” Mario laughed.

“I guess, it is decided, then. Just let me know where we meet.”

Mario stayed at him for another couple of hours. They talked without a break, about their dreams, goals and plans. It was very personal. Marco couldn’t remember if he had such a private conversation in his life. Mario seemed to understand every single thought of his, and he could relate to Mario’s life as well. It was already dark when Mario left. He needed to have a good night’s sleep before the next days’ training.

 

 * * *

 

Mario came for him in the morning. He took him to the training pitch so the physios could take a look at his ankle. Everything was fine; he was supposed to resume training after the weekend. He stayed at the training, watching his teammates exercising. He had a chat with Kloppo, sharing ideas. It was rather him listening to the coach and agreeing with everything, but he stilled appreciated it. Kloppo treated him as if he had been at the team for years. He drove home early, watched TV, ordered takeaway, tried to enjoy his idle time.

In the afternoon Mario called him. Marco was surprised; it had been only six hours since they had last talked.

“We’ve got a day-off tomorrow! I’ll drop by at seven and we’re going to have a great time.”

“Sounds great!”

“You don’t sound so excited. You’re still mourning the last two days of relaxing?” Marco could swear that there was a huge smile on Mario’s face.

“It’s not that. I’m just not sure whether I’ll fit in the team, you know.” Mario burst out of laughing on Marco’s comment.

“You’re what? Marco, that’s probably the stupidest thing I’ve heard from you! But really, there’s nothing for you to worry about.” Mario said gasping for air. There was something in his words that calmed Marco down.

And so he tried not to trouble himself. It didn’t work. He spent the late afternoon getting prepared for the evening. He took a cold shower, and he even vacillated between what to wear which he had never done before. It took him fifteen minutes to style his hair. It was almost seven when he finished, so he had only a few bites for dinner. He was still eating when the doorbell rang.

“You’re not ready yet?” Mario asked after he let him in.

“Just a minute.”

“Chill out, Marco! We’re not going to a fashion show. It’s just a few friends hanging out together.”

“I don’t know what’re you talking about.” Marco said putting his shoes on.

“Oh really? There’s more gel in your hair then I thought possible!”

Marco didn’t answer just gave him a dirty look and showed him out of his house. He shut the door and Mario waited for him beneath a street lamp.

“I thought we were going by car.” Marco said, still limping a little bit.

“Then how are we supposed to drink? Seriously, Marco, you surprise me all the time. You didn’t have crazy nights at Gladbach?”

“We had, but – never mind.”

They kept talking all the way, mostly about football, their favourite movies and music. When they arrived, the place was already full of Dortmund players.

It was a small pub, in a narrow alley; the last place you would expect professional footballers to turn up. But Marco had to admit it was lovely.

“Here they are!” Schmelle shouted and he handed them two jugs of beer. “Enjoy yourselves!”

“Well, you’ve heard him.” Mario said and took a sip from his beer.

It took Marco some time and a few beers to loosen up, but after an hour he found he enjoyed his new teammates’ company very much. He spoke mainly to Schmelle, who got really drunk and couldn’t stop talking. It was Mats who saved him and dragged him outside.

“Look, Marco, I’ve got to talk to you.”

“Is there anything wrong?” Marco asked, sobering up instantly, worrying he messed up something.

“No, no.” Mats smiled. “God, I really don’t know how I should put this!”

“Come on, just say it!”

“Well, it’s Mario. I just realized he’s quite keen on you and well, I think you should know that – That he probably cheers for both teams.”

“What?” Marco asked, not sure he had understood what the defender was trying to say.

“It’s not official, but we kind of noticed it. You know, more bulges than usual in the dressing room and on the pitch, a little bit longer gazes. It’s not that I judge him or something; I just think you should know. You know, just to prevent some embarrassing situations.”

“Um – thanks.” Marco stammered, not sure what to say.

“I guess we should go back now.” Mats broke the awkward silence.

And they did so. Marco searched for Mario in what really looked like a crowd. He saw him next to Lewa, apparently arguing very passionately about something. Kevin stepped to him and asked something, but Marco didn’t even hear him. There was only one thing on his mind: Mario cheered for both teams. And Marco was sure that right now he was his favourite player.


	2. Houston, we have a problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco decides to explore Mario's feelings toward him, while he has to cope with his own ones.

On Monday morning Marco joined his teammates on their next training session. Of course he was paired with Mario. Marco decided to test what Mats had told him and also his own theory. His eyes wondered towards Mario’s crotch more than it was necessary, sometimes accidentally touching Mario’s feet as well as his own or clinging to his shoulders not to lose his balance, looking for the slightest reaction from the midfielder. And reactions he got. Every single touch, no matter how small, provoked a twitch, a blush or a slight grin. Mario was totally in love with him. And now he knew it for sure.

But he recognized something else in Mario’s eyes as well. It looked like he was ashamed of his feelings. Marco thought he was probably used to having to hide them in front of his teammates. A gay footballer doesn’t stand a chance of a glorious career. So Mario must have chosen what seemed as the only possible path: concealing his feelings, feeling utter shame and regret for even having them. And all that just to be able to do what he really enjoyed: football.

Realizing this, Marco felt sorry for the midfielder and was angry at himself for teasing Mario. He couldn’t imagine what the younger one had to live through. The constant fear of being exposed and having to lie about his true self had to be the worst thing that could happen to a man. Marco hadn’t been there. Not that he was one hundred percent straight. He had his homoerotic moments in his life; but he never really identified himself based on his sexual orientation. He didn’t care about it. The most important thing for him was to find the comfort he needed from time to time. Once he found it with a woman, another time with a man.

The rest of the training went well. The physios confirmed what he already knew – he recovered fully in just a few days. Something like that had never happened before. His ankle didn’t hurt at all, and he thanked to Mario once again in the locker room.

“Marco, if you keep saying that I’m afraid I’ll have to leave you suffer the next time.” his comment made Marco laugh.

“Let’s just all hope, that there will be no next time.”

“Of course, I didn’t mean to –” Mario stammered totally embarrassed.

“Mario.”

“What?”

“It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean to. I totally get what you mean. Even if you don’t say it out loud. It’s kind of weird, because we don’t know each other that well, but still. Do you feel the same?” the words kept flawing out of his mouth.

“Sure.” Mario said, trying to end the conversation. He took off his top, revealing his worked out abs and chest.

It wasn’t the first time Marco saw him half-naked, but this was the first time he saw in him someone who had a crush on him. Something moved in Marco. He didn’t know what or why, but he felt an unknown sensation racing through his body. Suddenly he was glad that Mario didn’t take showers after trainings.

First he found the midfielder’s habit to go home sweaty after training weird. Now knowing what Mario went through he could understand it. Mario was in a way still a teenager, full of hormones. The last thing he needed was a shower in a room full of men.

Marco didn’t want to get Mario into another awkward situation, so he stood up and walked towards the showers. When he returned, Mario was already gone.

 

 * * * 

 

They spent the next days with intensive training sessions. The trainers tried to spare Marco, but he wouldn’t let that happen. Actually he spent one hour extra time training. The others explained it with his eagerness to prove that he deserves to be in the team (which no one questioned). They were probably right, but it was just one side of it. He was also trying to get rid of Mario, who seemed to move into Marco’s thoughts permanently, while the real Mario was avoiding him and Marco didn’t know why.

His afternoon or evening visits stopped and Marco was afraid it happened because of him. The worst part of it was that he didn’t get the chance to speak to Mario. The midfielder hurried home all the time, what caught his teammates’ attention as well. When they inquired, Mario answered with a shrug.

The one extra hour of training helped Marco not to think about Mario, but after he got home, he couldn’t hold his thoughts back. He was alone. Of course, he had his family and childhood friends, but they couldn’t quite understand his worries about football and well – about Mario. His new teammates got on well with each other and Marco was too shy to try to join them on one of their parties. He was a social person, but he needed time to open up before strangers. And it felt like he was surrounded with strangers.

He was sitting on his couch, watching some stupid TV show, when he had enough of it. He dialed Mario’s number, what he regretted the next moment. But there was no turning back.

“Marco?” asked Mario unbelievingly.

“Yeah, that’s me. Listen, Mario! I don’t know what’s going on and it kind of pisses me off. One day you visit me, making sure I have everything I’d need, the next day you’re avoiding me, hell, you don’t even talk to me? What is wrong? Did I do something or what? Because I’m sick of it all.” the words left his mouth on their own, Marco didn’t even know where’d they come from.

“I – don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mario started, but he changed his mind and continued in a different manner. “OK, maybe I know what you mean. Do you remember when we were alone in the locker room? And you talked about how well we get on? I panicked, because – I don’t really know why.”

There was despair in Mario’s voice. Marco was sure Mario knew why he had panicked, why he had thought that maintaining a good relationship might cause a problem but he didn’t bring it up. He wanted to give some time to Mario so the younger one could find the courage to make the announcement on his own. If he was gay at all. But the way he acted was quite unambiguous.

“I’m sorry if I freaked you out. But I still don’t see why you are doing this.”

“It’s complicated. I can’t tell you.”

“Try me.”

“No, Marco. I’m sorry but – There’s nothing wrong with you. I just need some time, I guess.”

“Could you at least treat me like a human being?”

“Yes, sure.” Mario laughed. “Hey. Right now I must go. You know, family dinner. But maybe we may get a beer afterwards?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They agreed to meet at the pub the team usually went to an hour later. Marco decided not to make a big deal out of it. He put on his most comfortable clothes and forbid himself to overthink.

The evening was great. They had a conversation Marco hadn’t had in a long time and it wasn’t awkward at all. Marco tried to avoid any private questions but they kept on talking even when those came up. Maybe it was just the beer, but Marco wanted to believe that they were normal again.

In the morning it was his time to worry. He never remembered his dreams before. But this time he could recall every single detail. Mario was involved. And his bedroom. And his boxers were suspiciously wet.

 

 * * * 

 

The trainings went well; Marco felt they were ready for the season. They spent a lot of time together with Mario and it showed on the pitch as well. They seemed to read each other’s thoughts. The guys watched them fascinated as they managed to perform the hardest passes and maneuvers together. Everything was superb.

“Did you come by car today?” Marco asked after they finished training. The others finished almost an hour before but they stayed just to pass the ball a little.

“Nope.”

“I’ll drive you home then. I owe you one. Just give me five minutes to take a shower.”

“I think I’ll go with you.” Mario said, getting out his towel from his locker.

Marco was surprised, but tried to hide it. Maybe Mario came to a decision about his feelings. They went to the shower together. The architecture allowed quite good share of privacy, with every stall separated by a narrow wall, but there were no curtains. Marco chose the last stall on the right, while Mario went to the second last on the other side. Soon the sound of running water filled the room.

Marco was trying to keep himself busy with other thoughts, not to think about a naked Mario so close to him. He really was trying. But he failed. He leaned back, first to check if there was anyone else in the room. The passage was empty. He turned back, concentrating on the drops hitting his face. _It is a terrible idea_ , he kept saying himself. But he couldn’t hold himself back.

He put his right leg outside the stall and leaned towards Mario. Mario stood below the shower head, washing his hair. The water ran down his back, winding around his bottom then falling down to the floor tiles. He was so hot. Marco felt how every single drop of his blood rushed to his crotch and he barely managed to withhold his moan. He quickly returned to his stall, finished showering and left before Mario. He got dressed, not wasting too much time drying himself. He was about to leave when Mario entered the room.

“I’ll wait for you in the car.” he managed to falter out, dazzled by Mario’s still wet chest.

He rushed to the parking lot, taking deep breaths. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t erase the picture of Mario’s body from his mind. He leaned against his car, rubbing his temples.

“Is everything all right?” Mario asked, putting his hand on Marco’s shoulder.

“Yes. I just felt a little dizzy in there. Probably the vapor.”

“Might be.” Mario said, but Marco knew he didn’t believe him.

“Ready to go?” Marco asked. Mario nodded.

They remained silent for the most of the drive, commenting on other drivers from time to time. Mario invited him in for a coffee, but Marco declined, blaming his earlier dizziness. “Maybe next time”, he said and drove off.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck!_ He kept saying for the whole time, hitting the steering wheel until his palms hurt. When he got home, he  hit his head against the wall. He kept doing it, in hope to get rid of all the feelings he experienced that day. But it didn’t work. As soon as he stopped and sat on his couch, the picture of a naked Mario appeared. He felt some movement in his pants.

“ _Houston, we have a problem._ ” he murmured.


	3. You have a lot to talk about

The next trainings seemed like a nightmare to Marco. Earlier, he had just guessed what Mario had gone through, but the reality was a lot worse than he could have ever imagined. And it had to be easier to him, since he knew Mario was totally crazy about him. But it was nevertheless tough.

He tried to avoid the midfielder, doing exactly the same Mario did to him a week earlier. Maybe it wasn’t the best solution but it most certainly seemed so. He saw the pain in Mario’s eyes whenever he dared to look at him, and it hurt Marco a lot, but he couldn’t think of any other way to cope with his problem. He had a crush on Mario. It wasn’t like anything he had ever experienced. With the other guys in his life, well – he searched for sexual satisfaction only. But what he felt for Mario was completely different. He wanted to sit next to him and talk about everything that came to their minds, without hesitation, without taboos. He wanted to cuddle and kiss him and never even get to bed. Well, at least not straight away. He knew Mario would eagerly agree to carry out his fantasies but Marco was afraid.

He wasn’t afraid of Mario’s reaction. He was concerned about his own feelings and performance. He knew he got the chance of his lifetime when he joined Dortmund, and he most certainly didn’t want to throw it away. He was afraid of their teammates’ reaction, because he knew that no matter how hard they would try, they couldn’t keep it a secret – and he wasn’t sure how would they receive the news. So he decided to do what he always did in such situations: cork up his feelings hoping they would fade away with time.

But one thing he couldn’t hide was his worsened performance. Their worsened performance. Earlier they could perform the craziest moves, now the simplest pass was a struggle. The team noticed it but tried not to make a big deal of it. After all, everyone had bad days from time to time.

Kloppo was different. He didn’t say anything either, but he didn’t need to. His look said enough for him. Marco knew it was just a matter of time before the coach decided that he had had enough of it all. And that moment came after a pre-season friendly they lost.

They got a day-off after the match, making them able to relax a little bit before the next training session. And it was tougher than ever. The coach and the trainers expected twice as much from them. They needed to get ready for the season. Marco and Mario got paired again to practice their passes. They weren’t as bad as they had been lately, but it was still all average.

“Reus! Götze!” a shout came. It was Kloppo. “To my office! Now!”

As it turned out, the coach’s ‘office’ was a small empty store-room next to the locker rooms. Marco plodded after his coach apathetically not daring to lift up his head. When they were all in, Kloppo closed the door and turned towards them. He could no longer hide his feelings. There was anger and disappointment in his eyes.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked still shouting. “What happened to you? A few weeks ago it was a pleasure to watch the two of you and now you are worse than two random guys I’d drag in from the street!”

After the outburst an awkward silence brooded over the room. They wouldn’t dare to argue with their coach, especially since they knew he was right. On the other hand, they were aware of their problems without Kloppo pointing them out. Marco glanced at Mario and to his surprise the young footballer was grinning.

“Look, guys.” Kloppo said, now a bit calmer. “I know it can be tough to get used to each other and, you know, um, cope with certain – things. But I just can’t let you ruin the whole team because of whatever is between the two of you. You have a lot to talk about and you are not leaving here until you sort it all out.”

His words completely shocked Marco, but the coach didn’t give them any chance to answer. He turned around and left. There were no footsteps, meaning that Kloppo stayed behind the door making sure that they indeed talked about everything they needed to.

But of course it was easier said than done. Marco had gone through this conversation in his head a lot of times but it was different now. Firstly, there was Mario next to him to come up with the craziest answers ever. Secondly he was still in shock because of their coach’s words. He had always looked at him as an aloof person when it came to personal issues, and never expected him to speak so openly.

“So, you wanna talk?” Mario started, still grinning.

“I guess we have to.” Marco said, pointing at the door. Mario’s smile grew even bigger. “But I don’t know where to start.”

“How about explaining to me why have you been avoiding me lately? And then we might discuss why we aren’t any better than five-year-olds. So I’m all ears.”

“You’re making it quite easy for yourself. But OK, I guess I owe you an apology for what I’ve done in the last few days. I totally freaked out. I’m in a whole new setting even if I grew up here. I don’t really know anyone. You were there at the beginning but after that things got worse between us and I was worried that I’d screwed up.” Maybe it wasn’t the whole truth but it wasn’t a lie either.

“What are you talking about, Marco? What could you or I screw up more than we already did?”

“I don’t know. It’s that I started to have a feeling that we stopped being honest to each other. Maybe it sounds stupid but after the first few days I thought we were friends. But I’m just not that sure any longer.”

“No, I get what you mean. I admit I haven’t been completely honest with you and I’m sorry. But you’ve got to believe me: _I can’t_.”

Mario was pale, sadness sat in his eyes. Marco knew he just had the craziest idea ever, but he didn’t stop himself. He mustered his courage and asked quietly.

“Because you’re bi?” He didn’t expect the look on Mario’s face.

“What? How do you know? I mean – Why do you think so?”

“Relax, that’s no problem for me. And not for anyone.” He added. “Mats told me.”

“So the whole team thinks that I’m –” Marco answered with a nod. “Great!”

“But no one cares about it as far as I know.”

Mario started to laugh. It calmed Marco to see him take the news in stride.

“What?” he asked after Mario couldn’t stop.

“It’s only that I’ve never felt any dumber than I feel right now. I’ve always thought that if I was careful enough I could keep it a secret and I lived accordingly to it. And now it turns out that almost everyone knows about me.”

“Yeah, but the point is they don’t mind.” Marco added hastily, afraid Mario could overthink things. The midfielder smiled on his comment.

“What about  _you_?” Mario’s question took Marco by surprise. He thought about what to answer when this question aroused, but he had hoped they might avoid it.

“Of course not. I mean – I’ve got no problem with it.”

“Are you sure? Because you’ve been behaving quite weird lately.”

“Yes, I know. It’s nothing to do with you.”

“So you never even found my behavior suspicious?”

_God, his questions are becoming more and more uncomfortable_ , Marco thought. But there was no turning back. He knew he owed Mario being honest. Especially since he was the one talking about frankness.

“I did. And I really don’t know what to do about it. God, I really need some time to think things over. That’s why I didn’t want to be near you. I see now that it’s the worst possible way but I didn’t have the courage to do anything else.”

“Then let me know when you’ve come to a decision.”

“No, it isn’t about me solely. I don’t want it to be awkward between us anymore. And we need to help each other. Can we do that?”

“Yeah, I guess. But you have to understand that it isn’t that easy to me. Maybe I’ll never be able to be completely honest. Not to anyone, not even to you. I just don’t think so any longer.”

“What are you talking about, Mario? You are no worse than anyone else because of – well, you know what. No one cares about it so I see no reason for you to be afraid or worried.”

“Of course they don’t have any problem with it. At least not in front of others. But I’m skeptical about their real feelings. Not that I judge them or something.”

“Bullshit, Mario. You know them more than I do. And even I can tell that–“

“Whatever, Marco. Let’s just leave it this way, shall we?” he constrained a smile.

Marco didn’t want to stop there but he didn’t want to force Mario into a conversation he didn’t want to have. He held in everything else he planned to say.

“So, everything’s alright between the two of us?” Marco asked.

“I’d like to think so.” Mario said and this time his smile was natural. It made Marco laugh. He knew they didn’t talk over everything they’d needed to, but it was a good starting point. They left the room as friends, and that’s what Marco wanted them to be. They weren’t meant to be anything more, or at least so he wanted to believe.


	4. We should find a way to keep it down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a loss against Bayern in the German Super Cup things get out of control and Marco finds himself in a very troubling situation.

It wasn’t a fairy tale, but it was certainly getting better. They won all their subsequent friendlies, and Mario and Marco were back in form. It was all meant to be perfect for the Super Cup. But it wasn’t. They lost to Bayern and Marco was furious. It would have been so unbelievable to begin his Dortmund career with a win over their big rivals. The others weren’t troubled about the result; the Super Cup wasn’t a priority for the team. But Marco wanted to win titles and it didn’t matter to him, which ones.

After the game he was sitting in their locker room, staring at the floor. Suddenly, someone put his hand on his shoulder.

“You alright?” It was Mario. The midfielder raised his eyebrows and looked at Marco worriedly.

“Yeah, sure. It’s just– “

“That we lost?” Mario finished the sentence for him.

“Yes.” Marco said quietly.

“Well, there’s nothing to do about it now, so why don’t we forget about it? Let’s go out and discover Munich!”

Mario didn’t wait for Marco’s answer, he got his own and Marco’s bag and started off towards the door. Marco stood up and followed him.

“Everything’s fine?” Kloppo asked when they arrived at the team’s bus. They were the only ones missing.

“Yes.” Mario answered while getting in. Marco was still too occupied to answer. He got a reassuring slap on his back from the coach.

In the bus they sat next to each other. Mario tried to start a conversation, but Marco wasn’t eager to carry on. The youth ultimately gave up and put on his headphones, losing himself in music.

Once they arrived at the hotel, they held a record short meeting, with Kloppo instructing them not to let the defeat break their momentum and to stay away from trouble in the night. After that they were dismissed.

 

* * *

 

Marco was relaxing in his room, channel surfing. He found a highlight show on the evening game. It wasn’t the best way to spend his late evening, but he didn’t have mood for anything else. The reporters and experts were analyzing their performance, every single chance, while praising the Bayern players.

There was a knock on his door.

“Come in” he said, turning off the TV.

It was Mario. The young midfielder wore baggy jeans, a white T-shirt and a read hoodie. _He looks so perfect_ , Marco said to himself, not sure where the thought came from.

“Ready?” Mario asked, sitting down in an armchair.

“Look, Mario, I don’t think I want to go anywhere. I’m tired and dejected. Kloppo said to stay in the hotel and get some rest, anyway.”

“Yes, and we are the good guys who obey all the rules, right?” Mario grinned. Marco knew this expression very well. It meant that Mario was up to something. “Come on, we need to take a break after the last few weeks of training.”

“I don’t know. Do they even serve Dortmund players around here?”

“That’s why I’ve come up with a much better plan.”

 

* * *

 

Marco had never been in the Munich Olympiapark before, and he couldn’t imagine what the two of them could do there in the middle of the night. But it turned out that Mario had a few cans of beer hidden in the pockets of his hoodie. The rest worked out itself. They were sitting on the grass, listening to the sounds of the night city. There was nothing else in the world that Marco could have enjoyed more that moment. He appreciated Mario being next to him, trying to take his mind off the loss.

“Have you thought about what we talked about?” Mario asked suddenly, ruining the idyllic moment.

“What? Mario, I really don’t want to –“

“I don’t _fucking_ care.” Mario’s voice was full of anger. “Or do you think it is so perfect between us? Huh? Have you given any thought of what I feel? Cause trust me, it’s horrible! I don’t know what the hell is happening, and I don’t know what you expect me to do! You’re telling me nothing and I’m afraid to do anything, because I don’t want to screw up!”

Mario’s words hung in the air, crying for an answer. But Marco didn’t know what to say. He knew he had asked for honesty from Mario, but now, when he got it, he wasn’t sure it was what he had wanted. It seemed so easy to say the single sentence that could finish all the tension between them but he was a coward, he had always been.

“I’m sorry.” Marco whispered. “I’ve never meant to make you feel bad. But it’s a situation I don’t know what to do in.”

“ _Bullshit_ , Marco and you know it. Last time you said you had no problem with, well with _me_. Now what’s your problem?”

“It’s not about you being bi. I don’t have any problem with _that_.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I’ve got a crush on you Mario!” Marco almost shouted and instantly regretted it. There could have been anyone around listening to them. But all around there was silence. Marco felt he had gotten rid of a big burden, but Mario’s look implied that the burden had only switched owners.

“What?” Mario stammered.

“When I was injured and you took care of me I noticed what you felt for me. And I didn’t care about it. Sincerely. But after some time I realized there were some feelings in me as well. It was strange, something I’ve never felt before. I’d thought it would fade away, but it just kept growing.”

“Does that mean that you’ve never – I mean, with a guy?”

“I have. But it was different.” Marco didn’t dare to look at Mario. His words were unanswered for a few minutes.

“So, what do you think we should do?  We can’t pretend we have no feelings for each other, right?”

“We can’t. But – Come on, Mario. Think about it! What other possibility we have?”

“Well, we could try to –“ Mario started but Marco’s laugh stopped him.

“Really? Mario, that’s not possible, and you know that. A gay footballer? Maybe. But a couple?”

“That’s what I’d thought about the team. But now I see that all my wariness was needless. _You_ told me so.”

“I’m not talking about the team. What would the people think? What would the media do?”

“Who cares about them?”

“ _I_ do! And you do, too. We have a great career ahead of us. You an even bigger one than I can ever dream of. And the last thing we should do is throw it away.”

“Or we have a great relationship ahead of us. Do you want to throw _that_ away? Look, I’m not sure, whether it will work or not. But we could give it a try at least. I’m sure we can keep it a secret for a few weeks. If it doesn’t work out, we –“

“Mario, stop! It’s not that I have anything against this plan, but I know it’s not going to work. I’m sorry.” Marco got up and walked away.

Mario got to his feet. He opened his mouth to say something but he changed his mind. He watched Marco leave, unable to stop him.

 

 * * *

 

It was the middle of the night. Marco lay on his bed, unable to sleep. His mind was racing, full of doubts, thoughts and questions. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw Mario in front of him with that innocent look of his. _It would not work_ , he kept saying, trying to persuade himself. Suddenly, his phone rang.

“Hello?” He answered in a drowsy voice.

“Marco?” It was Kevin. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I’ve got a situation here and I could most certainly use a helping hand.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in a moment.” Marco said, now sitting and trying to get his shoes on with one hand. “Which room is it?”

“237.”

Marco hung up and rushed to the door. His room was on the third floor, so he took the stairs. Kevin’s voice was full of anxiety that made Marco forget everything else, even the fact that Kevin and Mario were staying in the same room. Fortunately, he didn’t meet anyone and entered Room 237 without knocking.

He saw Kevin trying to bring back to life – a totally drunk Mario. The midfielder’s eyes were fixated on the ceiling without any sign of consciousness. His right arm was full of bruises and his hoodie was torn.

“Good Lord, what happened to him?” Marco asked, joining Kevin next to Mario.

“I don’t know. I was getting to sleep when he showed up. He kept saying your name, so that’s why I called you. Shit, Kloppo’s gonna kill him.”

“If the alcohol doesn’t do the job sooner.” Marco said, now his heart skipping a few beats. “Wait, he was saying my name?” he added after perceiving Kevin’s words.

“Yeah, you’ve got any idea, why?” Kevin asked, putting Marco in an even more uncomfortable situation.

And then, Mario came back to life. He still seemed out of control over his own body, but he managed to murmur something, half of it was unintelligible. But Marco recognized a few words.

“Marco, _darling_. You are here.” Mario said.

“I think he needs some water.” Marco said, hoping that Kevin didn’t hear Mario clearly. But the defender’s grin left little hope for him. Kevin stood up and left to the bathroom.

“It’s so nice of you to stay with me. I love you so much.”

“Shhh.” Marco tried to hush him. Mario’s voice sounded so much louder than the sound of running water from the bathroom, even if the midfielder was only whispering.

“Tell me that you love me.” Mario said and this time there was no way Kevin didn’t hear him. He was returning with a glass of water in his hand, which he gave to Marco.

“Here drink this.” Marco handed the glass to Mario.

“Only if you tell me that you love me.”

Kevin couldn’t help himself and burst out laughing. Marco had never felt so ashamed in his whole life.

“Let’s talk about this in the morning, alright? When you feel better.”

Mario took the glass from Marco and swallowed the water with five big gulps. He tried to put down the glass but it fell out of his hand and hit the carpet. The next moment Mario was asleep. Marco kept staring at Mario for a few seconds, gathering his thoughts and then stood up.

“I guess he’ll be fine.” he said.

“Yes. Thanks for your help.” Kevin said, still red from laughing.

“It’s okay. And concerning what Mario said – “

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. Your secret is safe with me.”

“What? No, Kevin. There’s no secret.” Marco started to explain but he soon realized how pathetic he sounded. “Really.”

“Sure, sure.” Kevin nodded, trying to withhold his laugh.

Marco gave up. He knew Kevin well enough to know that there’s no point in talking to him right now. Kevin decided that they had something between them and no one could persuade him otherwise. He shrugged his shoulders and left for his own room.

 

 * * *

 

It was early in the morning when someone knocked. Marco was awake; he hadn’t slept much during the night. It was Mario, still looking quite bad.

“Can I come in?” he asked. Marco stepped away and let him in. Mario went straight to the armchair and sat down. “What happened to me?” he asked, massaging his head.

“You don’t remember?”

“Only that we had talked. After that – nothing.”

“In that case we will never know. Of course, if some paparazzi didn’t shoot you.” Marco smiled. Mario became extremely scared. “Relax, we would already know about it. How’s your hand?”

“It should be okay, I just have to come up with an acceptable explanation. Listen, Kevin told me I should ask you about what happened when I got back.”

“What, he didn’t tell you?” Mario shook his head and Marco couldn’t hide his surprise. He was sure Kevin would annoy them on the first possible occasion. But maybe the defender had grown up since they last met after all. “You turned up in the middle of the night and Kevin called me for help. I went down and you started to point out how much you loved me.”

Mario’s face turned paler than it was a few hours earlier, which Marco had thought was impossible. He saw the guilt and shame in his eyes.

“What? Marco, I’m so sorry. I’m gonna talk to Kevin and –“

“Don’t be sorry, Mario. Because when you asked me to say that I loved you, I was ready to say it. I wanted to. And don’t worry about Kevin, we can trust him.”

“ _We_?” Mario asked. He looked like he hadn’t understood what Marco had said.

“I’ve thought about what you told me last night. And you were right: I’ve been a coward when it came to my feelings, and I’ll probably always be. But it can’t stop me from enjoying life. And sharing it with someone. So I think we should find a way to keep it down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is welcome.


	5. Revenge is sweet, kisses are sweeter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco and Mario are waiting for things to evolve, but sometimes you have to make that step to make it happen.

Everything was the same as it had been before. They were best friends again, now with a promise of something more. They hung out after trainings, usually at Marco’s, playing video games, watching a movie or a match or simply talking. And still, Marco felt things weren’t going anywhere. They were both afraid to make that final step between being friends and being boyfriends. As if they weren’t willing to take the risk of exposing themselves and so their relationship became rather bittersweet.

Any awkwardness was compensated on the pitch though, where they became an unbeatable duo. They set up or scored goal after goal. And it wasn’t unnoticed: their teammates and the press glorified them; the fans went crazy every time they led a good attack. It was everything Marco had ever dreamt of. And still they couldn’t enjoy their success from the depth of their hearts. They’d start to loosen up, but right after that they remembered they couldn’t. The only chance they got to act the way they wanted to, was in the privacy of their homes.

“So are you up to something tomorrow?” Mario asked, handing Marco a can of beer. They were at Mario’s, relaxing after a tough training at the end of which they were told they would get a day-off.

“Nothing yet. Why don’t we go out somewhere? I mean, just the two of us.” Marco suggested.

“I’d like to, but the guys want to go to cinema, and it seems the whole team is going. So it would be quite suspicious if we –“

“Yeah, I get it. But how come I’m always the last one to know about these hangouts?”

“Because you never check your phone. I’m sure Kevin texted you and called you a dozen times.” Mario said with a grin.

“We just spent hours together and he couldn’t have invited me in person?” Marco murmured while checking his phone. He indeed had a nice number of missed calls.

“He could have. But we live in the 21st century.”

“So it’s the cinema then?” Marco asked sipping his beer.

“Yeah. Will you pick me up?” Mario asked, accompanied by a smile that Marco could not refuse.

 

* * *

 

The movie started at four in the afternoon, which let Marco long for Mario’s presence the whole morning. He would pace in his living room, occasionally sitting down just to get up again a few seconds later. At ten he could not hold himself back anymore. He grabbed his car keys and left for Mario’s.

He was there probably in record time, but it still felt like an eternity. Mario lived in a roomy, yet cozy apartment, not far from the city center. It was the perfect place for a guy like him. Marco liked staying at his friend, but he couldn’t imagine a life in such a busy environment. He liked the hive, but there were simply moments when he needed the silence and the privacy of his home.

He hesitated whether to ring the bell or to enter the code that he by then knew from all of his heart. He finally decided to do the latter, to take Mario completely by surprise. He rushed up the stairs not stopping until the third floor. He instinctively fixed his hair before knocking on the door.

It took some time before a startled Mario opened.

“Marco? What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t do without you.” Marco started but Mario cut him short.

“Shhh. Felix is over.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Marco felt like an idiot. Not particularly because of this awkward situation but because he just realized he acted like a stupid teenage girl. “I’ll go then.”

“Don’t.” Mario said in a hurry. “Come in. It’s not often a young talent gets to see two such brilliant pros.”

Marco chuckled at Mario’s remark. It was the good old Mario he knew too well. And yet he was too afraid to get things going with him; something that had never happened before. With the other guys or girls it was simple: they got straight to the point and parted a few weeks later without any hard feelings.

“Felix, we’ve got company, I hope you don’t mind.” Mario said when they entered the living room. His brother was sitting on the couch.

“Whatever. Oh– Herr Reus.” He said after he realized who the unexpected guest was.

“I didn’t know I was that old.” Marco held out his hand. “Call me Marco, please. I don’t want to feel like a man with one foot in the grave.”

“Okay.” Felix said while eagerly shaking Marco’s hand. “I like your playing style so much, you can’t imagine how much.”

“Can I get you a beer?” Mario asked, saving his brother from sounding like a brainless fan.

“No, if you want to go to the cinema today.” Marco said, his remark causing Mario to think for some time before getting the message.

“Sure. Then coke it is."

“So what are you up to?” Marco sat down and sprawled.

“We’re playing FIFA. You want to try it?” Felix asked already placing the controller into Marco’s hand.

“No. Real football is more than enough to me.” Marco laughed.

“Are you sure?” Mario’s voice came from behind them. “Felix here isn’t the best opponent and I’m getting bored by winning every single time. Try me.” Marco could have sworn he felt some hidden message in Mario’s deep baritone.

So he grabbed the controller and got ready for a game. By the time he sorted out the game controls, Mario was leading 2–0, but after that the match was his. He scored goal after goal, enjoying every second of it. It was 2–4 when Mario paused the game and got up.

“It’s almost noon; don’t you need a ride home, Felix?”

“Not yet. I’m enjoying this way too much.”

Felix answered with an enormous smile on his face and delight in his eyes. Mario wanted to smash him. OK, he humiliated him all the time in FIFA and mocked him because of his game skills, but still. They were brothers; they should have kept together against a common enemy. Especially as that enemy suddenly entered their conversation.

“He is right, Mario. There’s still 30 minutes to go.” Marco’s taunt upset him so much.

He sat back, took his controller and started to play out of pure anger. It did him no good, only caused three free kicks and a penalty that Marco (the real and the virtual one) scored. As if Mario wasn’t furious enough, for the last few minutes Marco put his controller on the table and leaned back satisfied. Mario than managed to score a goal, but it was still a 3–7 loss for him. When the referee ended the game, Felix burst out jubilating and gave Marco a high five.

“You are like small children.” Mario said finally, trying to save the situation.

“Come on, Mario. Lose with dignity and admit that I was the better one.” Marco teased him.

“Yes, brother. It’s only bad karma coming for you.” Felix added.

Mario had never felt so upset and humiliated in his life. Even if it was only a game, he took it seriously. He wanted to get up and run away, especially after Felix kept lauding Marco’s goals. But then he saw something strange in Marco’s eyes. There was worry and even guilt. They didn’t need to say anything, as usual. Marco’s look said enough. _I’m sorry, I can’t stop him._ And that made Mario smile and forget everything.

 

* * *

 

It was already three o’clock when they got ready to leave. They spent the morning playing and then ordered pizza. Marco enjoyed it, especially after Felix had found his tongue and shared a few stories about Mario, despite the latter’s disagreement. They took off together, although Mario would have preferred letting Felix go his own way, but Marco offered to give him a lift.

“Why don’t you come in?” Felix asked when they arrived at the Götze home.

“No, we’re really in a hurry.” Mario replied, shaking off Felix.

“Mamma will kill you if you don’t come in.”

“Felix. Out!” Mario said a little bit harsher than necessary; his eyes furiously shouting _listen to your older brother_.

“Alright then.” Felix gave up. “Bye, Marco.”

“It’s been a pleasure.” Marco answered, watching Felix getting out of the car. “It wasn’t called for.” He told Mario after they drove away.

“Believe me, it was.”

 

* * *

 

“Here we have our couple!” Kevin greeted them as they arrived at the cinema just minutes before the movie started.

“Shut up, Kevin!” Mario hushed him with furious eyes.

“Come on, guys!” Kevin continued, now almost whispering. “You must try harder. Everyone will know there’s something in what I said if you react like this. Not that it would matter to someone who love each other, right?” He finished his sentence with a rousing laughter that earned him a kick in the thigh by Mario.

“He’s mad.” Mario remarked after Kevin limped away.

“Still, he had a point.” Marco added and turned to Mario. “Will you buy the tickets? I’ll get us some popcorn.”

Mario nodded and left towards the box office. Marco headed toward Kevin, pulling him out from a group of teammates.

“What the hell, Marco?”

“Do they know or suspect something?” Marco asked rather harshly.

“God, no, relax! I haven’t told them anything– Wait, does that mean that you are? You know?”

“No.” Marco sighed. “Not yet. And I’m not sure we’ll ever be.”

“Well, okay. If you need someone to talk to, you know where to find me.” Kevin said, not sure what he should do in such a situation, not that Marco could blame him. He got no response, so Kevin rejoined their teammates who were already heading to the auditorium.

“Is everything alright?” Mario put his hand on Marco’s shoulder.

“Yeah. I’ve just found out how I suck at buying popcorn.” Marco tried to release the tension.

“Come on, Marco. I want the truth.”

“What do you think of us?” Marco finally asked. “Are we getting anywhere or are we just fooling ourselves that we can be what we want to be?”

“Not here.” Mario said and grabbed Marco by his wrist.

They went to the restroom and Mario made sure they were alone.

“Look, I’d be lying if I told you it is like I expected it to be. But I don’t think we should give up yet.”

Mario was desperate, his voice an irrefutable proof of how much he wanted Marco. And then, Marco stepped forward and pulled him closer. His brain started to overthink the situation but he didn’t care. First, he gave Mario a peck on his lips. They tasted so sweet to Marco. He couldn’t stop himself now and pushed his tongue against Mario’s mouth. The young player let him through, almost inviting him to his mouth. Their tongues found each other and started a passionate dance. Marco put his hand on Mario’s cheek, smoothly caressing his skin that was red from lust and burning. Marco pulled away only after a few seconds.

They were alone in the silence, only the quiet buzzing of the neon lamp could be heard. There they stood, their bodies pulsating, asking for more. It was Mario, who broke the silence.

“What have we just done?”

“Something that we should have done a lot earlier.” Marco smiled. Finally, they were boyfriends, there was no turning back. And it felt good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I know it came a bit late and I'm so sorry, but unfortunately school comes first. I promise I'll update more often.
> 
> And of course, feedback is welcome, as always.


	6. The Way to a Man's Heart Is Through His Stomach - Pt. I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco is ready to do some unexpected things to get closer to Mario.

“I’m gonna kill him!” Mario fretted himself as he hung up the phone.

“Whom?” Marco sat up in the bed. It was Wednesday morning and it wasn’t the first time he spent the night at Mario. He couldn’t even remember when it happened; the progress in their relationship seemed so natural, as they took step by step.

“Felix. He got us invited to a family dinner!”

“Well, it doesn’t sound like it’s the end of the world.”

“You don’t get it. What if they notice something? They are my parents after all; they know me more than anyone else.”

“So what? Are you ashamed of me?” Marco asked with a little hint of irony.

“Of course not.” Mario answered. “But– what will we do if they find out?”

Marco had to laugh at Mario’s worries.

“They are your parents. They’ll find out sooner or later.”

“So do your parents know about us?” Mario retorted.

“No. I’m far from their reach.” Marco stretched himself and got up. It was almost time to leave for their training. “So when is the dinner due?”

“Tomorrow. Are you sure it’s alright for you?” Mario’s face looked still worried.

“I’m always sure when it comes to you.” Marco whispered with a cheeky smile.

They had a breakfast together, which – given the state of Mario’s pantry – was far from sufficient. It wouldn’t be enough for just one of them. Marco left for the training five minutes earlier then Mario. They did this whenever they slept at each other’s, not to cause any suspicion.

“See you at the training.” They parted with a gentle peck.

 

* * *

 

Marco was already dressed up for training when Mario arrived. They greeted each other casually, just as they would greet any other teammate. Marco was itching to grab Mario’s hand and walk together to the training ground, even if it would last only for a few minutes. Whenever he saw the midfielder so close to himself, he remembered how much he loved to hold him and snuggle. In those moments they seemed so inseparable and Marco would feel secure like never before.

But they got some of those moments only in the evenings. There was nothing carnal in their relationship and Marco didn’t miss it. A few weeks earlier he’d have laughed at anyone who had told him that such a romance could satisfy him. Actually, he was more than satisfied. For the first time in his life he felt whole, not missing anything. And still, there he stood a few steps away from his greatest love and he could not kiss him. However, nothing stopped him from tapping Mario’s shoulder as he passed him. Mario’s playful look sent away every bitter thought.

And on the pitch– it was phenomenal. No matter how far they were from each other, Marco could feel Mario’s closeness. They were almost one and the same. They moved together, thought together and fretted together if something didn’t work out the way they planned. But let’s be honest, it rarely happened. They were unbeatable, almost unchallengeable. Marco had never felt the same during his career before. It wasn’t just two players cooperating. They submitted to something bigger he could not really define. The only thing he knew for sure was that it worked.

“I must say, with a support like you I won’t have a lot to do this season.” Lewy noted after the training and they were walking towards their cars. It was their habit; they played next to each other, they parked next to each other.

“We try to do our best. In the service of the team.” Mario said with a huge smile.

“Whatever, but keep it up.” Lewy told them as he got into his car.

“You’ve heard him.” Marco smiled, now loosened up. He stepped to Mario, ready to finally kiss him after what seemed like an eternity.

“Not here. Not yet. Anyone may come.” Mario pushed him aside. “I promise I’ll compensate you.”

“At six at my place?”

“Agreed.”

 

 * * *

 

Marco didn’t know why he had decided to cook dinner, but it seemed like a good idea. Then he searched the Internet for an easy recipe, but soon found out he couldn’t make anything out of it. He sat there hopelessly, then dialed the number of the only person that could help him out.

“Marco, is that you?” a soft woman’s voice answered.

“Hey, sis! Listen, I need some help– with cooking.” Marco said, realizing only then how lame he sounded.

“Hello, am I talking to my brother there?” His sister asked with a lot of sarcasm. “What the hell happened to you?”

“It’s a long story, but I want to prepare dinner and I don’t get any of these instructions.”

“Wait a second. You are cooking dinner? Oh, I see! Who’s the special one?”

Marco had to laugh. His sister read him too well. “I wouldn’t call it anything special, yet. We’re at the very beginning.”

“Tell me whatever you like, but she must mean a lot to you if you are willing to cook for her.”

Marco smiled, not correcting her sister. It’s not that she didn’t know about his affairs with both sides; he simply thought it’d be wiser to let her think that there was a girl in his life.

“So can you help me?”

 

 * * *

 

An hour later Marco stood in a kitchen full of dirty utensils, thinking that he’d probably beaten the world record of the highest phone bill. But what really troubled him was the horrible stench of his first attempts of frying. He opened every single window in his house, hoping that he could let some fresh air in before Mario arrived.

He took a quick shower and got dressed up exactly by six o’clock. He set the table in his living room then sat down, waiting impatiently. He held his phone, checking the time every half minute. Mario was late, as usually.

It was almost half past six when the doorbell rang. Marco jumped out of his armchair and ran to the door. A neatly dressed Mario with tidy hair stood in front of him.

“I was about to call you.” Marco greeted him.

“Geez, you should have called the firemen.” Mario grimaced as he walked in, killing all hope for Marco that he had managed to cover the stench. They started off toward the living room.

“Just don’t notice that.”

“It’s gonna be hard. What the hell happened here?”

“I cooked.” Marco said the exact moment Mario spotted the set table.

“You did what?” Mario’s look was priceless. “With all due respect Marco, I’ve seen my mother cook a lot of times, but on none of these occasions did she use a fire extinguisher.”

“Fuck off!” Marco growled and showed Mario to his chair. “Shut up and enjoy this evening!”

“Based on the smells it can be my last one.” Mario murmured, not quiet enough for Marco not to hear it. It was alright though, he knew Mario didn’t mean it and in fact was astounded by the fact that he had made dinner for them.

Eventually, the dinner turned out to be better than Marco had expected. It wasn’t a masterstroke, but it tasted quite good what made him proud. But what really mattered was the fact that Mario had a second helping. Marco wasn’t sure whether he did so because the meat was that delicious or simply out of politeness, but he didn’t care. Either way, he should have felt happy.

“Thank you very much” Mario said as he stood up. He walked to Marco, put his hands on his shoulders and bent down to kiss him. “Can I help you with the washing-up?”

“Believe me, you don’t want to see my kitchen right now.” Marco laughed. “And I’ve got more important things to do, as well.”

He stood up and put his hands on Mario’s hips and smooched him. They walked towards the couch, their lips never parting. They plankeddown and continued where they left off. Marco had never felt so good in his life. The smallest touch from Mario gave him goose bumps. The blood in his veins was rushing up and down and his heart beat twice as hard and fast as normal. He couldn’t get his eyes off Mario’s face and relished the moment every time their lips met.

“Marco is everything all right?” Mario asked when Marco finally let him speak.

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s just that you act like I’d run away if you didn’t hold me tight.”

“I don’t know, maybe you would.” Marco laughed. “I’m just glad that you’re here.”

Marco slipped his hand under Mario’s T-shirt. The midfielder’s muscles were tense but his skin felt soft and warm on Marco’s fingers. He drew a few invisible circles around Mario’s navel, which he knew sent a shiver down his spine. It was reinforced when Mario let out a moan. He probably wanted to say something, but Marco silenced him with a peck. He started to kiss his way down Mario’s neck, idling over his Adam’s apple.

His hands never stopped moving, pulling Mario’s T-shirt higher and higher, exposing his still tanned abs. But Mario drew apart from him.

“What’s wrong?” Marco whispered, staring into the midfielder’s eyes. After he didn’t get any answer, he added. “You’re not in the mood? Having a migraine?”

“It’s not that.” Mario chuckled. “I’m just brooding over some things.”

“I’m listening.” Marco sighed. He saw they were having _that_ conversation again. The one that never led anywhere.

“I’m not sure it is right: us being together. And I’ve just realized that today. What kind of relationship is the one I want to keep secret from my own parents? And then there are the others. Does it have any point if we can’t get to do what we’d like to do, because we aren’t supposed to do it?”

“Yes, it does. If we can get over all these and can enjoy ourselves when we are alone.”

“It just doesn’t seem fair. Why can’t we kiss each other and others can whenever they want to?”

“It’s not fair. But you know what? I don’t care. Because I can put up with 23 hours of acting if I get one hour with you, just like this. And _this_ is what matters.”


	7. The Way to a Man's Heart Is Through His Stomach - Pt. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco and Mario are having a family dinner at Mario's parents.

Mario had never felt so anxious his whole life. He had no particular reason to be afraid of the family dinner, but he still had those strange vibes that something would go wrong and he would be disappointed in something or someone. In the end it turned out to be the latter case.

He woke up next to Marco, early in the morning, the best possible way to begin a day. He always got up sooner than Marco, who had problems with starting his days. Mario got out of bed and went to the bathroom to wash away the traces of sleep from his face. He decided to check Marco’s kitchen, since his boyfriend made sure he didn’t get to that room the whole night. And now Mario could see, why.

The sight was just horrible: sooty utensils filling the sink, oil stains on the walls, filthy dish towels with no hope to be used again. Mario would have never dared to start clearing away such a mess alone, but it seemed like the only way to thank for Marco’s dinner.

He was almost ready when Marco hobbled into the kitchen. The winger looked sincerely surprised at Mario’s chore-doing.

“Good morning!” he greeted Marco.

“Who are you and what did you do to my Mario?”

“ _Your?_ ” Mario couldn’t hide his feelings about the way Marco mentioned him.

Marco stepped next to Mario and whispered gently. “Only if you want to be.”

Mario didn’t answer his boyfriend, just kissed him as passionately as always. He was in true love with Marco. It was a love he had never felt before, even though Marco wasn’t his first partner. Now he could see that earlier he was led by his hormones. The passion he felt for his crushes was nothing more than a teenager’s exaltation. But he loved Marco from his heart, and whenever he kissed him it would skip a beat the same way it did when he learnt that Marco was joining Borussia.

He had fantasized about him ever since a home game against Mönchengladbach in 2010. That time Marco scored an incredible goal that dropped his jaw. But he fell in love with him only after he saw how dejected Marco was after he saw his team lose 4–1. Mario went to see him but as he stood next to him all he could do was pat Marco’s shoulders. After the game he went home, locked himself in the bathroom and had the biggest wank of his life, thinking about Marco. And there he stood, two years later, holding the person he had wanted for himself all that time.

“Do you want some breakfast?” Marco asked him.

“No, thanks. I don’t have my training stuff with me, I must go home first. I’ll just have something on the go.”

“As you wish. By the way, when is the dinner at your parents’?”

“No specific time. My mum told me to be there after seven.”

“At 19:09? Your brother would like that.” Marco added. He was impressed by how Felix lived and breathed for BVB. But after all, Marco was no different when he was his age.

“Very funny.” Mario remarked. “I’d be glad if you could omit your humor. My father would not appreciate it.”

“Indeed! Any other orders?”

“Marco, please. Maybe it is funny for you, but I’m quite worried about the evening. Don’t make it any harder.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be the dream boyfriend.” He promised accompanied by a wink.

 

* * *

 

They had only one training session scheduled for that day, in the morning. Mario barely managed to show up on time, what earned him a stern look from their coach. And he wasn’t better during the training. Maybe he was there physically, but his mind was occupied with other thoughts. Kloppo didn’t say anything, but Mario knew he wouldn’t get a second chance to perform so badly on training.

“Is everything alright?” Marco asked him worriedly in the parking lot.

“Yes, it’s just that stupid dinner.”

“Look, if you don’t want to go, just call your mother and we won’t go. It’s that simple.”

“No, no. I’ve already promised them we’d be there. But promise me you won’t do anything, you know, lame.” Mario’s eyes said more than was necessary. He felt guilty for not trusting his boyfriend.

“I promise.” Marco told him, mustering all the calmness he had. “But I’ve got to go now, I’m meeting some schoolmates. We’ll see each other in the evening.”

“OK, I’ll pick you up at half past six.”

Marco was astounded. He knew how much Mario hated driving, and he also experienced that he wasn’t really good at it. He wanted to kiss him, to whisper into his ears that everything would be alright, but he saw a few teammates coming their way. Eventually, they shook hands and Marco drove away. Mario was just standing there, staring the way Marco left.

“Relax, he’s not leaving for ever.” It was Mats, who walked to Mario. “Is everything OK?” He added after he saw the youngster’s face.

“Yes. There’s nothing wrong between us, if that’s what you mean.”

“Great. Listen, we’re going out for pizza, are you coming?”

“No, I think I’ll just go home and have a nap.”

Mats nodded and turned around. The others were waiting for him.

“Wait, Mats.” Mario said hurriedly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What would you do if you had done something you had to keep secret to be able to do it, but you knew that keeping it secret would ruin it?” Mario jabbered not sure whether he was understandable.

“If that something is really that great and worth doing, keeping it secret would not do any good. For _nobody_.” Mats answered and walked away, leaving Mario wondering, whom exactly that _nobody_ included.

 

 * * *

 

Mario was at Marco’s house five minutes before the agreed time, something that had never happened before. But it was a special occasion after all. His boyfriend was ready and Mario had to admit that Marco had kept his promise. He looked fabulous; the perfect prototype of a friend (or something more), any parent would like to see his children with. He wore a slim shirt and a comfortable jacket with black trousers and white shoes. It was somewhere near a formal wear, but it didn’t look like as if Marco had dressed up just for the dinner.

“Good evening!” Marco greeted him as he got in. He couldn’t hold himself back and bent over the gear to give Mario a peck. “I hope I didn’t overdress.”

“Not at all, you look amazing.” Mario murmured, which didn’t sound too convincing, given his worn-out jeans and simple white T-shirt.

“Thanks. Can we stop for a bouquet I’ve ordered? It should be ready by now.” Marco asked and Mario noticed the two gift bags Marco was holding. He felt that maybe it’d turn out to be a great evening after all.

He spent the ride warning Marco what he should be careful about. By the time they got to his parents’ home, it became a decent list. They arrived a few minutes before seven. Mario parked the car next to the gate. He was about to open the door and enter the house when Marco stopped him.

“Wait. Shouldn’t we knock? I know you’re home, but I’m a guest after all.”

So they knocked and it was Mario’s mother who opened the door. She was a nice woman, all smiles and happiness.

“Mario! Why didn’t you just come in?”

“It’s my fault, Frau Götze.” Marco spoke up. “I didn’t want to rush into your house.”

“That’s nonsense! Mario’s friends are always welcome and Felix spoke so much about you for the last days that you almost seemed like a family member!”

“That’s good to hear.” Marco laughed. “Oh, before I forget–“ He added, handing over the flowers.

“These are amazing, you really shouldn’t have!” Marco heard that she really meant that and it was not the usual protocol thank you.

“Oh, you’re here.” Mario’s father greeted them too. He looked like a clever and friendly man, but Marco could see the rigor in his eyes.

“Herr Götze, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Marco shook hands with him and gave him a gift bag containing a bottle of wine. Mario was no expert on alcohol, but from the look of it, it wasn’t an ordinary nor a cheap one. “I’ve brought something for Felix as well, is he home?”

“Don’t worry, he’ll be down in a second, now that you’ve mentioned him.” Herr Götze said in a calm voice. And he was right, Felix was already rushing down the stairs.

“Mario! Marco! Great you’re here!” He walked directly to Marco, not taking his eyes off the last bag Marco was holding.

“Yes, it is yours.” Marco gave up with a laugh. “I hope I got the size right.” He added, as Felix brought out a signed Dortmund jersey. Mario knew very well all the jerseys they signed like robots but this wasn’t one of them. Marco must have asked all their teammates to sign it specially for Felix.

“One signature is missing, but I guess you can manage to get it easily.” Marco smiled, nodding towards Mario, who was still in awe of his boyfriend’s thoughtfulness.

“Alright now, don’t just stand here! Jürgen, why don’t you show Marco to the dining room? The diner’s ready, Mario darling, please give me a hand!”

Marco sent a reassuring look to Mario that said _See, I told you everything would be alright._ And indeed, the diner went well. The food was delicious, as always, and Mario was really glad that his father kept all his inquiries for himself. He could not resist asking Marco about his studies though. He wanted Mario to finish school and get a qualification for a ‘decent job’ and it was very hard for him to swallow when Mario decided to focus barely on his football career.

“Thank you very much, Frau Götze. It was delicious. I wonder how come Mario isn’t at least a dozen kilos heavier.” Marco said after they finished their meal.

“Well, thank you, Marco. I hope though you can manage some dessert. It’s still warm out there, Felix could you show Marco the backyard? We’ll be there in a second.”

Mario knew instantly that they noticed something, or maybe everything and they were going to have _that_ talk. He looked at Marco asking for help, but he answered with a calm look and left with Felix.

“He seems like a nice boy.” Mario’s mother started. “You must get on quite well.”

“Yes, we do.” Mario replied, trying to save the situation before it was too late.

“Look, darling, I don’t want to sound harsh, but– are you sure it is a good idea?”

“What are you talking about?” Mario decided to play the dumb.

“You don’t have to keep it secret from us. I’m your mother; I saw the love in your eyes whenever you looked at him. And I have no objection, but–“

“Let it go, Astrid.” Mario’s father spoke up. “Let him ruin his life the way he wants, that’s what he has been the best at.”

“Oh really? Now what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Listen, Mario. I accepted that you chose football. You’re talented and there’s a great career for you out there. But if this gets public– you’re over. Together with him.”

“I– I can’t believe this!” Mario stammered. He felt he was about to cry. “If you want to know, I love him more than anything. I hoped you’d understand but I see how wrong I was!”

He stood up and rushed out the room, trying really hard to hold back his tears. He found Marco in the backyard, kicking a football with Felix. His boyfriend looked at him and saw instantly that something was wrong.

“We’re leaving, Marco!” Marco knew it was no time for questions and he followed Mario.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I made some change in the point of view, I hope you like it. And I know, it turned out to be quite unromantic, but I just don't want the two of them to have only supporting people around them. Maybe it's not the usual stuff, but it seems more realistic to me. I'm curious about your opinions though, so why not give me some feedback? :P


	8. A Long Night

Mario spent almost the whole night crying in Marco’s lap. The winger looked at him with a worried face, caressing his face. He didn’t ask anything, he let Mario take everything at his own pace, and he indeed needed some time to recover.

They should have been glad that they even made to Marco’s house, as Mario drove like a madman. Halfway Marco persuaded him to let him drive, and as soon as they changed seats, Mario burst out in tears. His phone was ringing constantly, right until he grabbed it and threw it out of the window.

“What’s happened?” Marco finally asked Mario after they got home.

He didn’t get any answer, so he hugged Mario. The midfielder rested his head on his chest, Marco’s shirt moistened by Mario’s tears. They stood like that for what– ten minutes, half an hour, two hours? Marco could not tell.

“Come on, let’s go to the bedroom.” He whispered.

It was almost midnight when Mario’s tears finally dried up. He lay there in silence, enjoying Marco’s fostering presence. Marco’s fingers ran up and down his face, sometimes moving higher to raffle his hair.

“I hate them.” Mario muttered finally.

“Shh.” Marco hushed him. “Don’t you say that.” He gripped Mario by his shoulders and turned him over, so they could look into each other’s eyes. “Tell me what happened.”

“They don’t want us together. They don’t understand it. They just– oh, god!” Marco was sure Mario would have started to cry again, if he had any tears left.

“It’s going to be alright. I’m here.”

“I know.” Mario managed a smile. He sat up, and kissed Marco. “And right know nothing else matters.”

“That’s sweet, but–“ Marco stopped and hesitated whether he should continue. “I really don’t want to be the guy standing between you and your parents.”

Mario looked into his eyes with a look that said _you’re stupid_ , but his face softened.

“They are the ones that want to stand between us.” He said accompanied by another peck.

“I’m talking seriously, Mario! I don’t care how much you hate them right now, they are your parents. They want the best for you.”

“They don’t know what’s the best for me!” Mario shouted, a bit scaring Marco. “Geez, you’re talking as if you didn’t want us to be together, either.” He continued, but suddenly froze. Anxiety replaced anger. “Is that the case?”

“Oh, God, no!” Marco managed a half-smile. “But I feel like shit for what happened. I– I know I should not, but I feel like it is all my fault.”

Mario was overwhelmed by Marco. He had not only proven to be the sweetest person on Earth, but also someone who always puts others’ thoughts and feelings in the forefront. The young midfielder smiled. It was his first honest smile the whole evening. He crawled to Marco and put his palms on his face.

“You’re too perfect to be real.” He said, looking straight into Marco’s eyes. He could not withhold himself; he gave Marco a peck that soon turned into a passionate kiss.

After a few minutes all of Mario’s anger disappeared. There was only the two of them: Mario lying on Marco, hands running up and down on their bodies, legs playfully fighting each other. Mario quickly freed Marco from his shirt and started to kiss his way down the winger’s smooth chest. His efforts were appreciated with loud moans. His hands stroked Marco’s side, stopping on his hips.

He got more and more down, his tongue now dancing around Marco’s navel. The winger put his hand on Mario’s head and he reached down to grab his T-shirt. Mario got the message and got rid of it. His skin contrasted with Marco’s paleness. As he looked at his love lying on the bed, waiting with closed eyes for him to continue, he could imagine doing this for the rest of their lives.

He bent over and continued where he left off, this time his fingers climbing towards Marco’s groin. Just before they reached the button on Marco’s trousers, a hint of uncertainty got into his mind.

“Um– do you want it?” He asked Marco, already hating himself for it. He knew there was a very great chance that he ruined the moment.

Marco’s first answer was a roaring laugh. Mario could have sworn he saw some tears in his eyes as well.

“If I wanted you to stop, I’d have already told you.” Marco said in the end.

 

 * * *

 

Again, it was Mario who woke up first. Marco was asleep, quietly sniffling, his face so calm. He had taken on a white T-shirt which Mario found odd after they spent the night together.  Mario did not get out of bed, just reached out towards the nightstand, looking for his phone. He remembered the fate of his cell only after a few seconds. He turned back and put his hand on Marco’s chest instead.

The night wiped out all anger and doubt, but they were already coming back. He lay there, listening to Marco breathing, his mind racing. He did not know what to expect from their relationship. It was all perfect whenever they forgot all their worries and lived for the moment, but it happened too rarely to keep up their feelings and Mario knew that. But he was also sure he did not want them to part, whatever his parents thought right. It was all too tough.

“What’s the time?” Marco’s voice startled him.

“I don’t know. My phone got lost yesterday.” He said, getting his widest grin ready, so it would be the first thing Marco saw that day.

“Good morning.” Marco murmured as he turned toward Mario, still languid from sleep. The midfielder did not say anything, just kissed Marco.

“Can I get you some breakfast?” Mario asked.

“What for?”

“For being the best boyfriend to imagine.”

“Depends on the time. Maybe we’ve overslept.” Marco still wasn’t his true self as he started looking for his phone.

“I hope not. Otherwise I’m out of job.”

Marco smiled at Mario’s remark. He sat up and immediately tried to organize his hair in some fashion. He checked the time on his phone: they had two hours left until the training.

“God I am so worn out.” Marco sighed as he fell back to the bed.

“Oh, really? Did I exhaust you last night?” Mario asked with a big smile.

But Marco was not delighted by Mario bringing up the night. He lay concerned, staring at the ceiling. Mario reached out for his hand, their fingers clasped.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s stupid, don’t you care about it.” Marco tried to calm him. “So am I getting my breakfast or what?”

“Only if you tell me what’s wrong.”

“I told you it was nothing!” Marco cried a bit harsher than he meant to.

“Did I do something wrong? Didn’t you enjoy it?” Mario asked, worry sitting on his face.

“It’s really not that. It’s just– I shouldn’t have acted like that. You were upset and all and I feel like I exploited the situation. I wanted our first time to be more special, more romantic.”

It was only the genuine guilt in Marco’s eyes that made Mario withhold his laughter. He thought Marco was stupid to ever consider such things. The truth was he knew Marco would do anything for him seeing how upset he was. So if there was anyone who exploited the other one’s feelings – it was Mario.

“I’ll get that breakfast.” He smiled and got out of bed.

Marco joined him just before he finished. He was already dressed up, set for training. Mario laid two plates on the table and they sat down. They had toast and scrambled eggs – nothing special, but definitely something that Mario could prepare. They ate in silence, both of them occupied with their own thoughts. It was Mario who spoke up.

“Could you lend me your phone? I’ll just want to call my mom and tell her I’m fine. You know, she might be worried.”

“Sure.” Marco muttered. “Look, Mario! I’m sorry for what I’ve said earlier. I shouldn’t have troubled you.”

“Shut up, will you?” Mario reproved him. “Don’t try to be the perfect boyfriend all the time! Just be yourself, because that’s the Marco I love. I get it; you want to be the grown-up and always thoughtful, but– I think I can make my own decisions and mistakes. I just need you to be there for me whatever happens. Can we do that?”

“Yeah.” Marco chuckled. “I’ll be more than happy to do so. But please, don’t you ever salt my food again.”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot! Is it that bad?” Mario used to put incredible amount of salt in every meal.

“No. It’s worse.”

“As a compensation I’ll take you to training.” Mario smiled at him.

“Oh, I thought we got there on our own. You know, precaution.”

“Marco… you’re being mature again. And by the way, it’s a pity that your car broke down. Fortunately though I’m here to drive you.”

“What are you talking about? My car works perfect– Oh!” Marco said as he understood that Mario came up with their cover story that they’d not need to use anyhow, and they both knew it very well. But Marco was happy. After the awkwardness of the evening he felt that they were on track again. And he was almost certain that no matter what would happen, they could stay there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter than usual, but I thought I'd give you something to read before the WC Final. Feedback is welcome, as always.


	9. A Confidential Friend

Marco had been staring at the display of his phone for minutes. It read a simple sentence: _Meet after the game? XOXO_. It was especially the sender and the last four characters that he was concerned about. It was match day and the message came from André, his friend but rival on the pitch. Whom was he kidding? They were more than friends. At least they had been. André wasn’t the first guy he slept with, but the first footballer, and the only one before Mario. Their relationship was limited though to matches they played against each other, and to one occasion when they were on international duty.

They always got on well, and yet, Marco gazed at André’s message unable to think of anything he could answer. He hadn’t told André about him and Mario. And why would he? They never were a couple with him after all and they never wanted to be. Minutes passed and Marco realized he had to do something. Without thinking, he typed a few letters and hit the send button.

_Sure. Good luck!_

His first thought was that he’d made a mistake, but there was no turning back. He got up from his bed and stretched a little. He didn’t finish before the answer came.

_Great. We’ll kick your ass. ;)_

Marco sneered. André always went into matches with such confidence. And it sometimes turned against him. But Marco knew how important that particular game was in the season. And Bayer definitely had what it took to beat Dortmund…

But they could not utilize it. After the first 45 minutes, BVB were leading by two and in the second half Lewy found the net once more. The atmosphere was phenomenal; they knew they made a huge step towards the upper positions in the table. They were in high spirits in the locker room, some of them singing, but there was no one without a huge smile on his face. It was the first time that Marco really felt glad to be a Dortmund player.

“Are we going to celebrate, or what?” Mario stepped to him.

“Great offer, but I’ve got something else to do.” Marco answered. He hadn’t told Mario about André, and he definitely didn’t think it would be the wisest idea to mention that he was going to meet someone who had just played against them.

“Okay.” Mario stammered. He was surprised but tried to do his best not to look like a jealous boyfriend.

“I’ll tell you later.” Marco whispered into his ears while giving him what others saw as a friendly goodbye hug.

 

 * * *

 

André turned up only after all of Marco’s teammates left, what left him look quite stupid. He got a few comments of the ‘ _is your date late?’_ kind, but he only smiled to them. Nothing could bring him down that day. It was after almost half an hour that he spotted André. The forward missed all his optimism and cheer.

“Don’t!” he warned Marco instead of a greeting.

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” Marco defended himself. In truth he spent the whole waiting time thinking about quirks and he came up with some pretty good ones that he was looking forward to use during the afternoon.

“So where are we going?” André asked him.

“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

“That’s great! I give you at least six hours to think of something we can do around here and you don’t plan anything!”

“Why are you so crabby? Oh, I remember: you just got beaten!” Marco mocked him with a huge smile.

“Stop that, will you? You’re acting like a ten-years-old.” André scolded him, not that he would not do the same had the circumstances be the other way around.

“So the usual place?” Marco asked. André sighed and nodded in approval.

Their usual place was a café on a secluded alley. It wasn’t even a good place and the waitress/owner was the rudest woman Marco had ever known, but that’s exactly why they chose it for their rendezvous. Every year they thought they’d find the place closed, but the business kept running. It was however empty again, and the owner looked offended that someone dared to bother her on a Saturday afternoon.

They sat to the table farthest from the old lady’s usual idling place.

“What can I get you?” She shouted, not troubling to move to get their orders.

“Two coffees, please.” Marco said.

“Louder, boy! I’m almost deaf, you know!” Came the answer.

“We’ll have two coffees!” André shouted back. “I’ve almost forgotten why I loved this place.” He added in a softer voice.

“Yeah, it’s really lovely in here.” Marco said with a hint of sarcasm. “So how are you doing lately?”

“It’s all the same. Struggling to get points. And what about you? You’re still living alone?”

“Yes.” Marco said and waited for the waitress to bring their cups of coffee and put them down rather edgily.

“Good. We might get to your place later.” André said very suggestively.

“Actually– not this time. I’m seeing someone.” Marco intercepted.

“Oh, are you? That’s great!”

“Well, I don’t know. It’s Mario.” Marco added, keeping his voice down.

Marco wasn’t sure why he told André. Maybe it was because he needed someone to talk to, and only André could understand his position and the risk they both took. But he didn’t get the reaction he had expected. He’d hoped for a dropped jaw, or at least some shock in André’s eyes.

“You don’t seem surprised.”

“That’s because Mario told me– about two weeks ago. On international duty.” André admitted.

“Did he? And why was that?”

“The same reason you told me. Because you’re not sure whether it is a good idea, and if it is worth risking your careers and so on. Geez, don’t you guys talk?” André said monotonously.

“Wait a second. If you knew about us, why did you text me?”

“Because Mario asked me to. He feels that you’re overthinking and that it might ruin your relationship.”

“Oh, is that so?” What André said didn’t take Marco by surprise, but he was disappointed that Mario felt that such issues couldn’t be discussed with him. “And what do you think?”

“Geez, why do you keep asking me? How should I know? I mean, I agree that you’re risking your careers and it’s very irresponsible of you. But if you’re already doing it and I’m sure you are 100 percent into it, than do it and don’t care about consequences. At least not for the time being. You’ll cope with difficulties when they arise.”

André’s words lacked any passion or discretion but they still calmed Marco and gave him certain self-confidence. He knew that André’s advice was the only logical and possible way to manage their romance successfully and yet, it was a lot easier said than done. How could he forget his career, his life, his everything, even if it was for Mario? That was the problem with Marco. He could never get his dreams out of his mind. But was that really something he should have changed?

“So you think we should continue?” Marco asked just to be clear.

“Look, it’s up to you. I’m happy for you. I really am. I’ve never seen you so cheerful and relaxed. You work wonders on the pitch and I’m not convinced you’d do the same if you weren’t together. But I cannot make decisions for you.” André did everything but say yes. “But let me know when you make up your mind. Mario’s kind of hot and Leverkusen is not that far away. I might want to come over now and then if it doesn’t work out for you two.”

Marco could not withhold his smile. They talked for three more hours and he felt totally relieved. He took André to the station and went straight to Mario’s afterwards.

“Hey!” Mario greeted him casually, since the neighbor lady was in the staircase watering her plants. After he closed the door though, he pressed his lips on Marco’s.

“Why did I get this?” Marco asked.

“You’re my boyfriend. Do I really need a reason all the time?” Mario grinned. “So where did you disappear after the match?”

“As if you didn’t know.” Marco answered sarcastically.

“Are you angry?” Marco saw a bit of guilt in Mario’s eyes.

“Not at all. Thank you for sending him after me. He helped me a lot.”

“Did he?” Mario’s curiosity was sincere.

“First of all, I’d like to add a new rule to our relationship. No more rules. I’ve had enough of carefulness, always being cautious. I just want to enjoy being with you, as long as we can stay together.”

“Wow. I should have sent André after you a lot sooner.” Mario laughed after he recovered from the shock that Marco’s words caused him.

“And one more little request. If you’ve got a problem with me, please tell me.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“But now I guess we’ve got a result to celebrate.” Marco said with a huge smile. He grabbed Mario’s hands and pulled him towards the living room.


	10. Just Promise That You'll Trust Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is the latest chapter, I hope you'll enjoy it. And after you finish it, don't forget to share your opinions, it's well appreciated.

“Who is she and why are you holding her hand?” Marco inquired.

They were at his place and Mario noticed the first moment that something was wrong. Marco acted strangely, keeping away from him and when he asked him why, he thrust a newspaper under his nose. On the front page there he was, Mario Götze and his ‘mysterious’ new girlfriend.

“Oh, I wanted to tell you! I didn’t know they already had pictures of us.” Mario said, keen on explaining the situation.

“Did you? Well, I should feel honored, then.” Marco mocked him.

“My manager called me the other day and told me there were some rumors– about us: spending a lot of time together, maybe a bit too much. He thought it was harming my public image so he came up with the idea of a cover-up girlfriend. It will give the journalists something to talk about and they will leave us alone. I thought you’d understand–“

“Oh, yeah, you’re absolutely right. My boyfriend has a girlfriend, I should be delighted.” Marco retorted. Mario thought he was overreacting.

“I love you even more when you’re this jealous.” Mario smiled and tried to snuggle up to Marco, but the winger pushed him aside.

“Don’t start!”

“Start what?”

“That’s all you can do!” Marco shouted. It was getting out of control now. “Every time there’s some problem, you want to solve it with sweet words and sex! Grow up, Mario!”

“So _I_ need to grow up? I’m not the one fighting over some stupid photos and a girl!”

“ _A_ girl? Really? Tell me– since she’s only _a_ girl – did you fuck her, or holding hands and making out is enough?” Marco said, already regretting his words.

Mario did not answer. He looked at his boyfriend, letdown in his eyes and sprung to his feet. He rubbed his forehead, then turned around and started for the door.

“Mario, wait! I didn’t mean to–“ Marco jabbered but he was cut short by a slam of the door.

 

 * * *

 

Mario had never cursed in his life the way he did after he left Marco’s house. He blamed everyone and everything – except for Marco. No matter what he’d done, what he’d said, Marco seemed untouchable. Mario had seen from the beginning that Marco was right and he should have talked to him before picking up a girlfriend, but Mario was just too stubborn to ever admit it in front of him.

He was a fool. It would have taken only a phone call to apologize and get everything normal again, but he was angry at Marco. Not because he was jealous, but for not trusting him. How could he ever question his love? Didn’t he feel that Mario would be willing to do anything for him? It seemed so. And on top of that, all this happened before probably the biggest challenge of Marco’s BVB-career so far. They were playing Mönchengladbach the next day.

He should have been next to him. Holding him tight while Marco slept, calming him down when the nerves took control over him. And Mario was sure they did. He knew Marco more than anyone. He could imagine him wondering all night whether he’d give his best; it was Mario’s task to reassure him at such times.

In the end, it was Mario, who didn’t sleep at all. He was totally worn out, something that would pay back on the pitch. But right now he couldn’t care less. His boyfriend was mad at him. He ringed Marco the first thing in the morning, but he didn’t answer his call. Not the second, not the third, not even the hundredth one.

At noon he could not contain himself any longer. He grabbed his car keys and left in a hurry to Marco’s place. He didn’t care about any traffic rules; all he wanted was to be next to his love. He rang the bell but it remained unanswered. He sprung over the fence, knocked on the door, again without result. It seemed that Marco wasn’t at home. He ringed him once more, but he could reach only his voice mail.

He was desperate and worried. He didn’t know what he should do. Eventually he called Kevin.

“Scared, Mario?” Kevin greeted him his own way.

“Not really, we’re gonna beat them.” He made a pause; he didn’t quite know how to bring up Marco. “But I wonder– don’t you know what’s up with Marco? He’s not answering my calls.”

“Oh, our couple had a row already?”

“Kevin, it’s serious! He’s not like that.” Mario’s worried voice persuaded Kevin.

“All right, I’ll call him.”

The next minutes felt like hours to Mario. He had mixed thoughts _: what takes Kevin so long? He didn’t call me back. That means he reached Marco, right? Or maybe he’s not answering to him either and Kevin tries it over and over again._

After what seemed like an eternity, his phone rang. He had secretly hoped that it would be Marco, but he was disappointed.

“OK, he’s fine. Although, I’m not supposed to tell you this.” Mario had never felt happier and sadder at the same time.

“Wait, he told you so?”

“Look, Mario! We’ve got an important match ahead of us, and I don’t want to get involved in your relationship right now. And I advise you to do the same!”

“Sure. Thank you!” Mario said without a real effort to sound convincing.

 

 * * *

 

It was the first time they didn’t get to a home game together and Mario was more depressed than it was acceptable. It wasn’t something they could blame on the peculiarity of their relationship: every couple had fights and everyone needed to find a way to cope with them. But what hurt him the most was the casual nod that Marco had for him when he arrived. And Marco didn’t show a sign that something was wrong between them. As if he was teaching Mario a lesson: I can go on without you.

And he really could. He was phenomenal on the pitch, even without the help of Mario. They worked together of course, but it was different than before. On the previous games, they played out of passion, passing the ball around with ease and everything worked out for them. Now they cooperated like a machine, without spirit. And it was Marco for whom it suited more.

It took him 35 minutes to score against his former teammates. All Mario could do was watch him in awe. Just as the ball crossed the line, Marco went to ground and as he stood up, he refused to celebrate. Mario ran to him like a madman, expecting the usual craziness.

“Just perfect!” He shouted to Marco’s ears, but he got no response. Marco stood there with a deadpan face, not caring about what Mario had to tell him. And that left him in doubt: was it out of sportsmanship or because of their row?

Marco didn’t stop for the second half. He scored again in the 70th minute. And what a goal it was! He forgot about any ethics and he swung his arm in enjoyment. Mario ran to him again, and it remained without answer. But this time Marco celebrated– with Mats and Ilkay. But Mario didn’t have time to brood; he had to make way for Kevin.

Marco followed him just four minutes later and Mario was glad and fretful at the same time that the only free seat on the bench was next to him. The winger sat down without looking at him after accepting congratulations from everyone.

“What?” He turned to Mario, clearly irritated by the way Mario stared at him.

“Nothing. I just wanted to say that you were good.” He muttered.

Marco didn’t say anything, only nodded and then watched the game. Mario was annoyed by Marco’s behavior. He had the right to be upset, but this was pushing it: he acted like a schoolboy.

Mario could not care less that they scored two more goals; everything was gloomy. He could not rejoice at the win. While the others sang and chanted, he sat impassively, keeping his head down and trying to get out of Marco’s way, who was the hero of the match and shined in all that glory.

“Talk to him.” Kevin advised, as he caught him staring at Marco.

“I’d like to, but he doesn’t seem to share my intention.”

“Then you’ll need all your charm. I’ll give you 24 hours. After that I’m gonna talk to you two!” Kevin said half-jokingly, but it still sounded like a threat.

So after the after-game team meeting, Mario mustered all his courage and stepped to Marco.

“Can we talk?”

“Not now.”

“Marco, please! It’s important. I need to show you something.” Mario was practically begging.

“I’m sorry, but I want to chat with the Gladbach guys.”

“I don’t think they’ll be in the mood–“

“Oh, really? Well, I’m not in the mood either! Just go home, Mario. It’s not like you don’t have anyone else to go to.” Marco turned around and walked away, leaving behind a broken down Mario.

 

 * * *

 

Mario moved in his flat like a ghost. It wasn’t supposed to be like that; they’ve won a Borussen derby after all. And yet, he couldn’t relax himself, his mind was full of dark thoughts. He paced in his living room and it was almost ten o’clock when someone knocked on the door.

“Marco?” He opened surprised.

“Hey. Have you been crying?” Marco asked worriedly noticing Mario’s read eyes.

“So what? Why do you even care?” Mario answered and started to close the door.

“Wait!” Marco stopped the door with his palm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have acted like this. Can I come in?”

Mario opened the door again and let Marco in. They went to the living room in silence and sat down facing each other.

“I don’t know why I did all this.” Marco started so quietly that Mario could barely hear him. “But when I saw her with you I was afraid that I was going to lose you. And I don’t want it. I couldn’t understand why you hadn’t spoken to me about it. Maybe I wouldn’t have had any objections. I know you did it because you thought it right, but– it just seems strange, you know? Don’t you trust me? Don’t you feel like we could discuss it?”

“I do. And I was going to tell you. I certainly didn’t wish for you to learn it this way. But it all happened so quickly. But still– I thought you’d trust me more. I thought you’d be sure that I’d never leave you.”

“I know. I was very immature. I apologize.”

“And me too.” Mario muttered. There was an awkward silence between them. “So, shall I dump her?”

“Don’t! I mean if you don’t want to.” Marco answered, even though his whole body was itching to shout yes. “But promise me that we’ll stay together.” His eyes hid fear. “Or tell me if you don’t want to.”

“Marco!” Mario could not be angry at him anymore. “Come with me.” He got up and left for his bedroom, followed by Marco. “Here’s what I wanted to show you. Check it out and see for yourself how seriously I think of our relationship.”

“A wardrobe?” Marco asked incredulously.

“Open it!” Mario urged him.

“An empty wardrobe?” Marco still didn’t get it.

“It’s _your_ wardrobe. I emptied it for your clothes. I’d like you to bring some over here. So you could spend the night here and we could go to trainings together.” Mario stepped to him and placed his hand on Marco’s hip.

“Oh!” Marco opened his mouth in marvel. “I don’t know what to say!” He’d never felt so stupid his whole life.

“Just promise that you’ll trust me.” Mario whispered, turning Marco around.

“I will.” Marco said, fighting his tears, resting his chin on Mario’s shoulder.


	11. A New Ally

If there was one game they could not loose under any circumstances, it was the home game against Schalke. And yet, they lost. Two conceded goals in the first half broke them down just enough so a little sparkle of hope in the form of a Lewandowski goal could not change anything. Their fans however applauded them, even though everyone knew how bitter that loss was to them. The atmosphere in the locker room was gloomy. Kloppo didn’t say anything but he didn’t need to: they all apprehended that they had let their fans down.

They parted with sad looks in their eyes, almost in silence. Marco joined Mario and they were driving to Mario’s flat. They were planning to spend the rest of the day together licking their wounds and forgetting the loss. They turned into the street where Mario lived, when he suddenly turned the wheel, the tires screeching from the shock of the maneuver.

“I thought we were going to ‘fuck until we forget that we’ve lost’.” Marco remarked, quoting Mario’s words from earlier.

“We are. It’s just a little change of plans: we’re gonna do it at your place.” Mario answered concentrating on the road.

“What’s going on, Mario?” Marco looked at him.

“I’ve seen my dad’s car in front of the house and I’m not in the mood to talk to him right now.”

“Wait! You want to tell me that you haven’t spoken to them since that dinner?” Marco asked. He had believed that Mario put the matter behind.

“Well–“ Mario started and Marco already knew what was coming. “I was kind of busy loving you. And after that article about me and Ann-Kathrin Dad called me to congratulate on my taste and that I’ve finally ‘come to my senses’. Somehow, since then I can’t find the will to talk to him.” Marco gulped; he still couldn’t bear the fact that Mario had a quasi-girlfriend.

“But we’re going to change that now.” Marco ordered. “Turn around!”

“Marco, I know that you mean the best, but please let me handle this. I–“

“No objections! Turn around!” Marco repeated.

Mario let out a sigh and drew aside to have enough place to make a turn. His parents got out of their car as they passed. Mario stopped just a few meters further and stopped the engine.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” He muttered to Marco and opened the door.

“Hello, Mario!” His father greeted him with a huge smile. “And Marco.” He added when he noticed the winger, his smile vanishing instantly. He was clearly surprised and upset.

“Hi! You’re coming up?” Mario asked casually.

His father nodded and they went to Mario’s flat in silence. They sat down in the living room, Mario prepared them some refreshments. The silence became almost unbearable and the tension was growing sensibly.

“So, how are you doing?” Mario said finally.

“We can’t complain.” His mother managed a smile. She was clearly less moved by Marco’s unexpected presence. “We went to see the game tonight.”

“You could have chosen another match.” Mario’s voice was still bitter.

“No wonder you can’t concentrate on football, having such a demanding love life.” Mario’s father’s words hurt Marco probably more than Mario.

“Jürgen, stop that!”

“No, I won’t! Mario, I’m disappointed in you. We always gave you everything you needed, we brought you up the best possible way we could. And that’s your way of thanking us?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Mario shouted even louder than his father, what Marco had thought impossible.

“Just look around! Making out with your teammate! It’s a hard pill to swallow, but I could cope with that! But why that poor girl? You needed her to cover your passionate little romance? I bet _he_ talked you into it!”

“Well, if you want to know, Marco tried to talk me out of it.”

“Oh, so now he is the thoughtful boyfriend that talks sense into you!”

“He is!”

Marco started to feel uncomfortable while they spoke about him as if he weren’t present. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I think you both should calm down.”

“I’m not talking to you, boy!” Mario’s father retorted, getting a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

“You’re not gonna smoke in my apartment!” Mario warned him. His father looked at him fiercely, but he left in the end, slamming the door.

“You need to be patient with him.” Mario’s mother explained. “He doesn’t know what to do with the situation.”

“He doesn’t have to do anything. It’s my life, you have to let me live it.”

“Mario, darling!” She smiled. “If only it would be that easy. You’ll come to understand when you’ll have children of your own.” However, as she looked at Marco, her facial expression changed. Maybe she just realized that she might not have grandchildren. At least not from Mario. “Anyway, let him process the news.”

“And you don’t have to say anything about his comments?” Mario asked quietly, hope in his voice.

“I’m trying to talk sense into him all the time. But you know him: he won’t get persuaded. Maybe you should go down and talk to him.” She asked so nicely that Mario obeyed, even though he knew it was only to let her alone with Marco.

“Nice move.”

“Thank you, Marco. I was hoping to speak to you in private.”

“About what?” Marco was getting ready to be asked to leave Mario alone and forget him for the rest of his life.

“Well, Mario, of course. I’ve never seen him happier and more balanced. And I’m pretty sure it’s because of you.” Marco listened to her with a dropped jaw. “And if he’s happy, I’m happy for you, too.”

“Thank you?” He didn’t know what to make out of the situation. He still expected a ‘but’.

“I want to ask you to look out for him.” She asked, her eyes full off worry. “He’s right, I can’t hold his hands forever, but he’s still just a boy, whatever he thinks.”

“I’ll do my best.” He nodded, relieved.

“And talk to him about that poor girl! I’m sure he got together with her to let the two of you stay the way you are, but it’s not doing any good. Not to him, not to you, especially not to her.”

Marco could have done without the last words. He could not care less about Ann-Kathrin’s feelings. Honestly, he wanted her to suffer, even if that made him a horrible person. Deep in his heart he hoped that it wasn’t Mario’s choice to see her, and somehow she was behind it all. It would solve everything so nicely: Mario would be cleared, Ann-Kathrin would become the enemy, letting Mario only for him.

“I’ll see what I can do.” He promised, not so eager to agree this time.

“Thank you.” Her smile grew even bigger. “To be honest I had thought you were a mistake in Mario’s life. But looking at you two on and also off the pitch, it seems you are the best thing that could have happened to him. Appreciate it.”

Mario returned after ten minutes, clearly in a better state than the one he left in. “Dad’s waiting for you down.”

“Then I should be going. Take care!” His mother left with a huge smile on her face.

“What did you talk about?” Mario inquired immediately.

“Nothing much. But I think I’ve got another ally in the Götze family.” Marco smiled.


	12. An Unsuccessful Party

They did it. All odds were against them, but they did it. They qualified for the Champions League Knockout Round, as first from their group. And what a group that was! A group of death – at least for them. They kept their run going and qualified for the German Cup quarter-finals before their winter break.

“I thought about having a party.” Kevin proposed, grabbing the third can of beer.

“Great.” Marco said passionless. He appreciated Kevin’s attempt to cheer him up, but nothing could fill the hole left by Mario’s absence. The midfielder was on a few days’ vacation with Ann-Kathrin. He’d spent more and more time with the model, much to Marco’s annoyance.

“And I thought about having it here.” Kevin added casually, as if he was mentioning an insignificant detail.

“Why’s that?” Marco finally paid attention.

“Because you’re the only one with a big enough house to host a party for a whole football team.” Marco lifted his eyebrow on Kevin’s explanation. “Well, the only one that would be willing to host a party for a whole football team. Am I right?”

Kevin looked at him with hopeful eyes and Marco saw that his friend was up to something. “Alright! But you do the cleaning up afterwards.”

Kevin thanked him and promised his house would shine in no time, but Marco somehow had a bad feeling that Kevin would have nothing to do with it.

The party was scheduled for Friday evening and they spent the whole day purchasing all the necessary and needless things, with Marco being the chauffeur, but he didn’t mind. Driving up and down in the city at least took his mind off Mario, who still hadn’t called him or answered his messages.

By the time they finished, his kitchen looked like a depository, beer being the most significant commodity.

“If we plan to drink all of this, my WC will be occupied the whole night.” Marco remarked, looking at the horrible amount of stocks piled up.

“Don’t you worry; I’ll take matters into my own hands.” Kevin assured him and Marco was not sure whether he meant the role of the host or the good guest.

“I hope so. And I hope you’ve not forgotten your promise about any mess.” Marco reminded him.

“Never!” Kevin’s quick reply came half-jokingly, what left Marco in even bigger doubts. “But I should be going now, I’ll be here around seven.”

“OK. And Kevin–“ Marco probably shouldn’t have continued. “Is there any word from Mario?”

“I invited him, but he didn’t say if he would come. But he’ll be here. It’s gonna be a hell of a party he cannot miss.” The defender’s smile foretold nothing good.

And things got out of control very soon indeed, with Marco’s house changed into a dump filled with empty beer cans. The players tried to talk to each other, but Kevin always turned up the music, so they basically had to shout. The noise became almost unbearable, and Marco retired to his kitchen.

He didn’t feel well and certainly didn’t want to party with Mario being away. Despite all his hopes, the midfielder hadn’t turned up. Marco sat at the table, his face buried in his hands, going over various scenarios of Mario – _his_ Mario – and that cunt enjoying themselves in another part of the country.

He sank deeper in his thoughts, which became darker. Marco had to fight his tears when Kevin found him. The defender had the usual smile on his face, caused mainly by alcohol, but he was clearly furious.

“What’s wrong?” Marco asked.

“That _idiot_ is wrong!” He shouted, thinking that such explanation was satisfactory.

“Who are you talking about?”

“OK, first of all, promise me you’ll not freak out.” Kevin’s face turned serious.

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Promise me.” Kevin insisted.

“Fine, whatever.”

“So, Mario’s here and–“

Marco didn’t wait for the end of the sentence. He jumped from his chair and rushed out of the kitchen, nearly knocking Kevin over. And then he saw him– holding Ann-Kathrin’s hand. In his house! The couple sat on his couch; on the same spot, where Marco would make out with Mario. Marco wasn’t sure whether Mario didn’t notice the stern looks he got from some of his teammates, especially Mats, or he just decided to ignore them.

All strength left him in a moment and he had to grab onto the door frame, or otherwise he would have collapsed. Kevin placed his hands on his shoulders, keeping him on his feet.

“I’ll kick them out!” Kevin pledged, already starting off their way.

“No, wait!” Marco suddenly found his strength. “I’ll handle this myself.” Kevin stepped aside and watched Marco walk towards the couple, following him, ready to intervene if necessary.

“Welcome! I’m glad you’re here!” Marco greeted Mario with the warmest gestures he had. He could feel all eyes fixated on them.

“Marco!” Mario literally jumped before he shook hands with him.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” Marco lifted his eyebrows.

“Yeah, sure.” Mario muttered, clearly in discomfort. Marco could not feel sorry for him; on the contrary: he enjoyed the moment. “Marco, this is my girlfriend, Ann-Kathrin. Ann-Kathrin, this is my friend and incredible teammate, Marco.”

“Mario told me a lot about you.” Ann-Kathrin said in a chatty voice.

“I bet he did.” Marco answered, not trying to hide the sarcasm. “Well, I hope you’ll enjoy yourselves, but right now I’d like to borrow _your_ boyfriend, if it’s not a problem.” The emphasis he used put a strange expression on Mario’s face. Now he looked as if he could not manage a smile any more.

“Yeah, sure. It’s the team’s evening, after all.” Marco could not decide whether Ann-Kathrin did not understand what was going on, or she was a very good actor. He turned around and started off for the front door.

“Marco, wait! I can explain–“ Mario started, as he caught up to him.

“Ssh. You don’t want your girlfriend to hear this. She might get jealous.” Marco cut him short as he opened the door for Mario.

Even though it was the middle of December, the weather was quite mild. Or maybe Marco was too angry to notice the cold.

“You know, I’m glad at least you’re safe and sound. I’ve doubted it for the last couple of days.” Marco remarked dryly.

“I was about to explain that. We were hiking in the forests when I lost my phone so I didn’t get any of your calls–“

“Thank God that you still had your phone when Kevin invited you.” Marco dismissed his excuse. “Mario, I could cope with all this easier if you’d stop lying.”

“OK. Can I start over?” Mario asked and waited for Marco’s nod before he continued. “I’m sorry; I didn’t plan it to happen like this. When Kevin called, Ann-Kathrin was nearby and asked me what had happened. I told her and then she wanted to come here and meet the team. What should have I done?”

“Tell her no?” Marco was indignant.

“You don’t know her. She doesn’t accept no for an answer.”

“So you brought her to my house.”

“Yes, I screwed up, I know! I told you I was sorry, can we move over, please?” Mario’s voice didn’t contain a trace of real regret, he was rather upset, though Marco saw no reason for it.

“Does she know about me?” Marco asked after a long pause.

“Are you kidding? Of course not!” Mario snorted and didn’t realize how much he hurt Marco. “What should I tell her? Look Ann-Kathrin, I love you and all, but I’ve got a boyfriend and I only needed you to conceal our relationship?”

“Do you love her?” Marco asked, shocked by Mario’s words.

“What?” Mario looked up scared. He probably just noticed what he had said.

“Do you love her?” Marco repeated the question. Mario didn’t answer for a long time and as he opened his mouth, Ann-Kathrin joined them.

“Are you boys crazy?” She scolded them, handing Mario his coat. “You’re gonna freeze here.”

“We were already going inside, right?” Mario spoke with his eyes to Marco. _Let us shelve this for tonight_.

“Yeah, go ahead, I’ll come in a second.”

Mario looked at him with a worried look, but Ann-Kathrin grabbed him by his elbow and led him to the house, starting to tell him a stupid story; she only stopped to give him a peck on his cheek. Marco stood before his house, feeling robbed. He had thought Mario was his and his only, but now he doubted it.

He’d have stayed outside for the whole night, if Mats hadn’t come for him. The defender immediately understood the situation and ushered him inside. It was only then that Marco realized he had stood outside in a T-shirt and he was probably getting a nasty cold, but he couldn’t care less. Kevin soon joined them; Marco had never seen him angrier.

“Take him to his room, I’m ending this.” Mats instructed Kevin then left for the living room. “OK, guys, it’s my sad duty to announce the party’s over.” He got a few curious glances, but no one complained and they started to get ready to leave.

“Hey, listen.” Mats told his girlfriend, handing her the car keys. “I think I should stay here with Marco, but you go home, I’ll take a cab.”

“Is there something wrong?” She looked at him with a worried face.

“Nothing to worry about.” He answered, kissing her forehead.

Everyone was leaving when Mario stepped to Mats.

“How’s Marco?” He asked, keeping his voice low, not to let Ann-Kathrin hear him.

“It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?”

“I’ll go see him.” He nodded and tried to get around Mats, but the defender held him back.

“Don’t! Just go away now, Mario!”

The youngster looked at him determined to carry out his plan, but eventually he got convinced by Mats’s stern eyes. He turned around and walked away with his girlfriend.

The house soon became silent and Mats went upstairs. Marco was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling emotionless, while Kevin vehemently explained how exactly he was planning to kill Mario for what he had done.

“Thank you, Kevin.” He intervened, patting him on the shoulder. “I’ll take this from here. Go home and get some rest.”

“No. I’m gonna go to Mario’s place and kick his ass!” Kevin shouted dauntlessly.

“Then I will kick _your_ ass!” Mats warned him.

He could not make sure whether he convinced Kevin, but he left. Mats waited for him to shut the door before turning to Marco. The winger looked paler than a corpse and he didn’t show more signs of life than one. Mats sat down next to him, looking out the window and waiting patiently. He didn’t say anything; he knew Marco would start talking when he felt the time ready, and Mats was willing to stay there as long as he was needed.

“I’m losing him.” Marco started after a few long minutes passed. “I didn’t want to admit it, but I am.”

“Maybe it’s for the better. If he doesn’t want you, then–“

“But I _love_ him, Mats! I can’t help it! I’ve been crazy about Mario since the first time we spoke.” Marco was sobbing.

Mats turned around and grasped him by his shoulders. He sat him up and looked in his eyes.

“Look at me, Marco! You are a great person, and no one is worthy enough to make you behave like this. I know how you feel about Mario and I know it’s hard. But if he chose that self-important bitch, then let him. He’ll come to regret it.” He wasn’t sure these were the right words to tell, but he thought them honest and true.

“I can’t. I just can’t.” Marco repeated, shaking his head. “I can’t live without him anymore.”

“Bullshit, Marco! I’m not going to let you crack up. You are not going to do it because of Mario, you hear me?” Even Mats found himself harsh.

Marco kept crying, his tears rolling down his cheeks, falling on his T-shirt. He leant forward and buried his head into Mats’s shoulder. The defender found the situation awkward at first but he hugged Marco nonetheless.

“Good. Let it out.” He whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am with the next chapter. I'm starting to feel that I put the two of them into too much trouble, and I'm hating myself for it, but there weill be better times, I promise.  
> And a huge thank you for the 100 kudos!


	13. Always Fighting and Making up, Never Loving Each Other

If it wasn’t for Mats, Marco would have never gotten out of bed that day, maybe not even for the rest of his life. He had barely slept the whole night, and even when he did, it was a shallow and troubled sleep. But the defender was relentless; he pulled Marco out of bed and sent him to his bathroom with a forceful thrust. Marco was in no mood to do anything, but he got under the shower and turned it on. As the cold drops of water hit his body, he felt that he had gotten rid of all his problems, but only for a short time.

As he was drying himself up, the memories from last night started to reenter his mind. He didn’t remember everything, as if his brain was trying to save him from a breakdown by blocking some of the events. But what remained was still enough to put him in a gloomy mood. He went back to his bedroom, put on some clothes and stumbled downstairs. He was ready for the worst view he could imagine, but he was pleasantly surprised as Mats had already cleaned up a good part of the mess.

“How do I look?” Marco inquired.

“Horrible. But it’s still an improvement over yesterday. I’ve made you some breakfast.”

“Thanks, but I don’t think I could force down anything right now.”

“I haven’t asked you about your opinion, have I?” Mats said and led Marco to the kitchen.

His ‘some breakfast’ was more than Marco would have eaten on a normal day. He sat down and began to eat, but he pushed the plate aside after a few bites.

“You’ve got to eat something.” Mats rebuked him.

“I’m not hungry.” He said shortly, fighting to keep down what he had managed to swallow.

“Why are you doing this, Marco? And how long are you planning to continue?”

“It’s easy for you. You don’t have the slightest idea of how I feel.” Maybe Mats was trying to help, but his comments made Marco annoyed.

“Oh, you’re right. Being heartbroken is only your privilege.”

“I’m not heartbroken!” Marco shouted back.

“Then finally behave so!” Mats raised his voice, which was a rare occasion. “Do you think this will help? I’m telling you: if Mario wants to talk to you, he will come whatever you do. And if he’s done with you, then there’s nothing left to do about it.”

No matter how much Marco hated what Mats had said, he knew he was right: Mario was out of his reach. If the midfielder still loved him, he’d come. And if it was over– he had to find a way to accept that. The worst part was that Marco didn’t know which of these two he wanted more. He was still crazy about the younger one, but at the same time he was getting fed up with Mario’s moves. He loved him, and yet, he hated himself for it.

“You’re right. I should stop pitying myself. I appreciate what you did, but go home now. I’m sure Cathy would like to spend some time with you.”

“Do you think I’m an idiot, Marco?” Mats laughed at him. “You’re trying to shake me off, but I know you’d turn all gloomy again as soon as I left. I’m not leaving until I see some improvement so you should get working on that right now.” Marco let out a laugh at Mats’s comment and it indeed felt good.

They spent the morning cleaning up the house. They were totally worn out by the time they finished. They ordered pizza for lunch and played some FIFA afterwards. Marco wasn’t back in his form, but he was feeling better. He measured the progress in the number of minutes he managed without thinking about Mario. He was around seven, when there was a knock on the door.

“I’ll check it.” Mats volunteered and walked to the lobby. As he opened the door, he faced Mario. No matter how much he hated him, his first instinct was to look for some bruises and wounds. He was pretty sure Kevin could not get near Mario the night before, but better be safe than sorry.

“Mats?” The midfielder recoiled.

“What? Surprised there are some who care about other’s feelings?”

“Please, I need to talk to Marco.”

“Agreed: you _need_ to. But you won’t.” Mats replied ready to slam the door.

“Let him in.” Marco’s voice came from behind him. Mats looked back at the winger, who had lost all signs of improvement and looked like a corpse again.

Mats gave up and opened the door for Mario, who slipped in, as if he could not enter if he hesitated for a bit.

“I’ll take a walk then.” Mats nodded and soon left.

“What are you doing here, Mario?” Marco broke the awkward silence.

“I think I owe you an explanation and at least a thousand apologies.”

“At least.” Marco agreed.

They sat down in the living room, next to each other, staring at the wall. It was hard to say anything. They were facing a possible end and they both knew it. Earlier they didn’t need to talk for hours, their thoughts were clear to the other one as soon as they opened their mouths. But now there was no such connection.

“Yesterday you asked me if I loved her.” Mario started. Marco closed his eyes. He didn’t want to hear the rest. “I do.”

Marco’s world had collapsed. He felt his tears start to flow, and he didn’t try to hold them back. He wanted Mario to see them and feel the pain he felt. Maybe it was stupid but Marco hoped his question had opened Mario’s eyes and the younger one realized that Ann-Kathrin wasn’t the one he needed.

“I’m sorry.” Mario muttered.

“For what? You can’t control your heart, Mario.” He said and he knew it was true.

“Maybe. I– I don’t know what happened or how it happened. It’s not like our love, Marco. I need someone I can hug or kiss whenever I want. And you–“

“I’m not the one.” Marco finished for Mario. He was mad. Not at Mario but at himself. Mario’s mother warned him and he had months to prevent this, but he had hoped that Mario would choose him. And that same Mario was now nodding in agreement.

“But I hate myself for loving her. I don’t think you know how it feels.”

“I’ve been getting an idea about it, lately.” Marco smiled through his tears. “I love you, Mario. No matter what you did, I’m still as crazy about you as I used to be. So tell me, do you still love me?” He was ready for the worst.

“From the depth of my heart.” Mario finally turned to him. He was also crying. “I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you. I’ll never love Ann-Kathrin the way I love you. I don’t want us to be over. But it wouldn’t be fair. Not to you, not to her. Gosh, I’m an awful person. You deserve someone much better.” Mario buried his face in his palms.

“No, I don’t.” Marco put his hand on Mario’s shoulder. “You’re the best thing in my life.”

“But I let you down. I betrayed you.”

“And yet, you still love me and I still love you. That has to mean something.” Marco was desperate to cling onto their relationship. Mainly because if it ended, he’d have to face uncertainty.

“What went wrong, Marco? We wanted this so much and look at us. Always fighting and making up, never loving each other.”

Marco kept silent, though he wanted to shout _that bitch and you, that went wrong_. It would have been easy to blame Mario for everything, but the truth was that Marco had his fair share in their troubles and problems.

“So what are we going to do now?” He asked, afraid to give the answer himself.

“I wish I knew.” Mario replied. “I need some time– to sort things out. Can you give me a few days?”

“Yes.” Marco nodded.

“But I have to know something.” Mario turned to Marco, a serious look on his face. “Would you give us another chance? Would you let us start over?”

Marco didn’t need time to think. “A thousand times.”


	14. I’ve Never Stopped Loving You

The days before Christmas seemed like a torment to Marco. He kept checking his phone to see if Mario had called him, but he didn’t get more than the usual ‘ _good morning_ ’ messages. But Mario forgot about them during his vacation with Ann-Kathrin, so Marco considered them a sign of improvement. And he was looking forward to more. Mats was angry at him when he admitted that he hadn’t dumped Mario but the defender could not understand.

Everything suggested that he would spend the Christmas Eve alone, but he didn’t mind. However, in the morning his sister showed up. Yvonne looked fired up, but she always did around Christmas time. She stormed into his home and became even more passionate when she noticed that Marco didn’t have a tree. The holidays were the most sacred thing for her.

“So you’re living on your own and you already forget about your family and traditions?” Having a child of her own made Yvonne very motherly.

“I did not. I was planning to drop by in the afternoon.”

“Drop by? Afternoon? Forget it, young man! You’re coming with me right now to celebrate with your family!”

No matter how much Marco longed for the presence of his family, he was in no mood to join them and act like everything was alright and fake smiles all the time someone spoke to him. He had not told them about Mario. Not that they would protest, he was sure they would react much better than Mario’s parents did.

“I don’t know. I– “ He tried to find an excuse but he didn’t have one and Yvonne’s look persuaded him not to continue. “Give me five minutes and close your eyes while I smuggle the presents to my car.” Buying presents was the only activity that took his mind off Mario, so he purchased a nice amount of them.

 

 * * *

 

The Reus home was surrounded with a Christmas atmosphere. The front porch was decorated but with a style and to a healthy extent, not like the neighboring house, that had red Santa Clauses everywhere. Marco loved it there, and sometimes he still thought of it as his home. It meant comfort and safeness. And as he stepped to the door, he felt love.

“I’m home!” Yvonne shouted as they entered. “And I’ve brought a guest as well.”

“Marco!” His mother ran to him and hugged him, already crying. “I’m so happy that you’re here.”

“Mama, you’re strangling me.” He barely managed to utter these words, but at least his mother let him go.

“Quick, get off your shoes and head into the kitchen, I’ll make you a tea. I don’t want you to get a cold.”

Five minutes later the three of them were sitting around the kitchen table, talking about the news in the Reus family. His father together with Yvonne’s husband and son were out for a walk so he was defenseless before the women’s questions.

“So, how is the future Mrs. Reus doing?” Yvonne asked and Marco nearly choked on his tea.

“Am I missing something here?”

“Oh, I haven’t told you, have I?” Yvonne turned to their mother. “He called me one day for some culinary help.”

“Did you?” Marco’s mother understood the importance of such a thing.

“Yes, I did. Can we move on, please?” He was starting to get Mario off his mind and he didn’t want him to return there at least for a day.

They dropped the topic and he almost forgot about it by the time the rest of the family arrived. He shook hands with his father and brother-in-law and hugged his nephew. Maybe the kid was only two years old, but he saw a part of himself in him. He spent the rest of the morning and a good part of the afternoon with Nico and everyone was kind of grateful to him for occupying the biggest ‘energy vampire’. And he liked Nico’s company, most notably because the boy didn’t ask him about his love life.

But when it came for the afternoon sleep, Yvonne picked Nico up and Marco was left alone with his mother.

“What’s troubling you, Marco?” She asked.

_Here it come_ s, Marco thought as he faked a smile. “What are you talking about? Everything’s fine.”

“Marco, please. You’re my son, I know you.” She shook her head, and since Marco didn’t answer, she continued. “Does this have to do something with the mysterious ‘Mrs. Reus’?

“Stop that, please. There’s no future Mrs. Reus.” He snorted.

“I understand you don’t want to talk about it. But if you change your mind, I’ll be here for you.” She turned around ready to leave.

“Mama, wait!” Marco said hastily. “It’s rather a Mr. than a Mrs.”

“Oh dear, we don’t have a problem with that.” She said already apologizing.

“I know, it’s not that.” He started.

He could not say why he had told her about Mario and him, but he still did. Maybe it was because he needed to talk to someone openly, without the other one swearing to kill Mario and not blaming him at all. And he knew that his mother was the one. And she listened to him giving all her attention.

“Well, based on this I don’t see a reason for any problem.” She remarked as Marco took a pause.

“And there wasn’t. But then– it’s a long story.” He waved his hand.

“Luckily we still have two hours before dinner.” She checked her watch. “Go on, Marco! It will help.”

“Then he started to see her more often and I’m afraid he’ll choose her over me. He just does not value our relationship enough to risk his career.”

“And you’re mad at him because of this? Marco, open your eyes! You keep talking about Mario hiding your romance, and you haven’t told _me_ about him. Your own mother! So tell me, who’s the one not taking your relationship seriously?”

She scolded him but he had never been more grateful for it. Marco was silent, mainly because he knew his mother was right. He had never questioned his own actions and tried to find all of Mario’s faults.

“Where is he now?” She inquired.

“I think he went to Berlin after Ann-Kathrin.”

“You’re calling him. Right now. And tell him how sorry you are.”

Marco felt like a private executing the orders of a superior, but he obeyed gladly. He got out his phone and dialed Mario’s number without thinking. For long seconds all he heard was the ringing, without answer. He almost gave up when Mario finally got on the phone.

“Marco?” His surprised voice came.

“Um– Hello, Mario!” He felt like an idiot; he didn’t know what to say. “Merry Christmas.” He managed, banging his head into an imaginary wall.

“Merry Christmas to you, too.”

Their talk stopped at this point, and they could feel the awkwardness of the situation even through their phones.

“Look, can I talk to you?” Marco broke the silence.

“Sure.”

“I’m sorry. I acted like a douchebag. I’ve been questioning your love and your actions and never looked at mine. I know I can’t give you all you need. And I was blind to see my own faults and–“

“Whoa, slow down a bit, Marco. What are you talking about?”

“I’ve never told my family about you right until now.”

“Oh.” His words clearly surprised Mario, but he didn’t sound upset. “Look, I don’t think we should discuss this on phone, why don’t we–?”

“Yes, you’re right, sorry. Just call me when you’re back from Berlin.” He finished Mario’s sentence.

“Marco, I’m already in Dortmund. I’m at my parents’, making up.”

“Oh.” It was his time to be confused. “How is it going?”

“Pretty good. No blood was shed so far.”

“So can we talk tomorrow?”

“We must. And Marco, thank you for calling.”

Marco was much happier for the rest of the evening. He finally had something to look forward to. He didn’t know why, but he had a good feeling about the future, their future. And so the first honest smile in days appeared on his face during the opening of the presents and he was even more joyful when he saw how much the others loved his presents.

He was bitter when he left, and his mother tried to persuade him to stay, but the house was already full and he didn’t want to be another burden. He got into his car and decided to take a drive around the city, to absorb the atmosphere of the evening. He had been driving for half an hour when he realized that he had wound up in Mario’s neighborhood and in fact he had been circling it for some minutes.

He drove into Mario’s street and parked his car before his house. He didn’t know what he was doing there. Mario was probably still at his parents’, but he gave it a try nonetheless. No one answered the doorbell. Marco walked back to his car, and leaned back in his seat. He was exhausted. Mainly because of the tiring afternoon with Nico, but the last days took their toll as well. He closed his eyes just for a second and he fell asleep.

He was woken up by a knock on his window. It was still dark and his car was like a freezer. He looked around, not fully awake yet and spotted Mario’s grin next to him.

“Isn’t it a bit cold for a nap in there?” He asked sarcastically. “Get out of there and hurry to my place. I’m gonna make you some hot chocolate or something.”

Marco obeyed willingly and followed Mario. He was very cold and his limbs felt numb. Mario kept his promise and made him a cup of ‘something’: tea, by the taste of it with a significant amount of rum. The midfielder put a blanket over him and rubbed his arms, while scolding him about how careless he was, risking maybe his life but certainly his well-being.

But Marco could not concentrate on his words; he was occupied with Mario’s hands running up and down his biceps, warming him.

“So what are you doing here? What could not wait until tomorrow?” Mario finally sat down opposite him.

“Your answer. You needed some time to think. The time’s up, I want to know your decision.” Marco said dryly. He had waited long enough and he had made a fool of himself for Mario too many times.

“I don’t know how to put this.” Mario hesitated.

“Her or me?” Marco demanded a reply.

“You.” Mario looked up and said the one word that sent Marco to seventh heaven. He wanted to jump and hug Mario and never let him go again, but he controlled himself. He still wanted to make some things clear.

“Definitely?” Marco struggled to ask. He was afraid that any further discussion would change Mario’s mind. “Because I can’t bear you playing with my feelings anymore.”

“What are you talking about, Marco? Maybe I made mistakes but I never meant to hurt you. Things just got out of control. But I’ve never stopped loving you. You must feel that.”

“And what about Ann-Kathrin. What’s your future?”

“Let’s just say I’m not the only man in her life.” Mario murmured smiling.

“Oh.” Marco looked at him with a dropped jaw. “I’m sorry– I guess.”

“It’s okay, I don’t blame her. I didn’t give her all she wanted.”

“Wait! Does that mean you two never– you know; _that_?”

“Of course not!” Mario was outraged. “I had you; I would have never slept with her! What do you think of me, Marco? Haven’t I proved you so many times how much I loved you? I told you I only needed her for my public image.”

“I’m sorry.” Marco said. He had misjudged Mario. Maybe all this time he was the one who had to give more. “I think I was blinded by my jealousy. Can you forgive me?” He was doing it again; begging.

“We both made some mistakes, Marco. Let’s just start all over again, shall we?”

Marco nodded. “It could work. But I’d rather leave now. I’m sure you’re tired and I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

“I don’t think you should. You’ve been drinking.” Mario said with a wide grin on his face, pointing to the empty cup.

“You evil!” Marco said laughing.

“I hope you still feel a bit cold. I’ve read that nothing warms you more than a naked body.” He continued, his grin never fading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's probably not what some of you have expected, but we've seen everything only through Marco's eyes so far and I thought it's time to learn the whole truth. I hope you like it, please leave your comments.


	15. With You It Will Be a Good Year

In the next few days they didn’t left Mario’s flat. They ordered even the most basic groceries, which Marco had not done before. Ideally, he wouldn’t have gotten out of bed. They were watching films, playing video games, but most importantly, they were loving each other. Something they should have done a lot more.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Mario remembered suddenly. He jumped out of bed and hurried into the living room. He returned with a wrapped box in his hands. “This is for you.”

“What’s this?” He took the present from Mario, looking at him questioningly.

“Don’t look at me. It’s from Felix. I have nothing to do with it. And at this point I should note that I didn’t have time to get you a present.” Marco could see that Mario was sorry for that.

“It’s okay.” He murmured as he opened the box that hid a video game controller with a hand-written note.

_He’s got a shitty controller and he always gives me that one. This might come in handy._

Marco had to laugh. It was so like Mario. And it explained how the midfielder could beat him earlier and why his players did not move. Mario looked at him confused so he showed him the paper.

“It’s a vile slander!” He cried out, which made Marco laugh even harder.

“You know, sometimes I get the feeling that I’m seeing the wrong Götze.” He joked.

“Oh, really? And you think that Felix could suck you off as well as I can?” He asked with a smirk. Marco never liked dirty talk, but somehow when Mario did it, it turned him on. And the midfielder was aware of it, already getting ready to pull down his boxers.

“Not now, Mario.” He grumbled, trying to hide his bulge.

“Okay, so what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know: get up, take a shower and then have a breakfast. Maybe you could make something?”

“Last time I made you breakfast, it didn’t work out well.” Mario noted, struggling to find an excuse.

“I’ll just have some toasts today. I think you can manage that.” He suggested mockingly.

But fifteen minutes later, as he walked into the kitchen, trying to style his hair with his hands, he found out he was wrong. Half of the toasts were pretty burnt; one of them was literally black. Mario tried to get the most out of it by scratching a heart in the middle.

“How do you like it?” Mario asked as it caught Marco’s eye.

“It’s horrible.” Marco shook his head.

“I agree. I did it only in case you liked it.” Both laughed as Mario threw the toast into the bin. “By the way, Kevin called me. He’s having a party on New Year’s Eve.”

“Kevin called _you_?” Marco could not hide his surprise.

“Yes. Why are you so shocked?” Mario asked in confusion.

Marco only smiled in response. Maybe Kevin was so drunk that he did not remember his promise to kill the midfielder. Or maybe he did and he was planning something. Marco found both cases funny.

“Anyway–” Mario continued, when he saw he wasn’t getting any answer. “Are we going?”

“I don’t know. Kevin’s parties don’t work out well for us, do they?”

“Well, who knows what would have happened with us without that night?”

“Oh come on! We both know! You’d have asked me to forgive you and I’d have willingly said yes. Or the other way around.” Marco blurted out, and only realized later how harsh he was.

“Is that the way with us?” Mario asked still processing what Marco had said.

An awkward silence fell between them; something that was unimaginable earlier. A sign that not everything was back to normal. Marco stared at his breakfast, swearing to slap himself at the first occasion for saying that. But there was no turning back. They had to talk through this, otherwise it would only poison their relationship.

“Don’t you agree?” He said finally.

“I don’t know. I haven’t given it a thought, to be honest.”

“You know us! We can’t go on long without each other. And I’m not saying it is a bad thing, but it’s strange.”

“Whatever.” Mario muttered as he got up and put away their plates.

“Come on, Mario! We have to talk about this!”

“What is there to talk about? You think that we just stay together for no particular reason. That’s it.”

“No, I didn’t mean it that way–“ He started but stopped when he realized he meant it exactly that way.

“You’re saying one thing, and doing something else, Marco. You say that we love each other unconditionally, and yet, you cannot trust me. Why is that?”

“You are right and I’m sorry about that. But it was hard to me. You know, because of Ann-Kathrin.”

“Here we go again! It’s always my fault, right?” Mario burst out.

“No, it’s not what I meant. It’s just– shit.” He buried his face in his hands because he did not know what to say. He was never good at talking.

“Look, Marco. I know what you meant. But you’re taking things too seriously.” Mario knelt down next to him “You’re always analyzing things and it just doesn’t work. Let things happen on their own. Just like we used to do.”

“OK, I’ll try.” Marco promised, rather to himself.

 

* * *

 

Kevin’s place was packed with people, in spite of a lot of the players awaiting the New Year on vacation abroad. The speakers shouted some strange rock music that Marco could not appreciate and seemingly he wasn’t the only one. He arrived a bit earlier than Mario, and was the more welcomed from the two of them, since Kevin was deliberately ignoring the midfielder.

“Do you know what’s wrong with Kevin?” Mario asked. He didn’t really seem to mind the defender’s behavior.

“I’ve got a few ideas but you don’t want to hear any of them.” Marco admitted.

They spent the evening always near to each other, chatting. They got on well again; maybe Mario was right: all they needed was Marco to take things easier.

“You want another beer?” Marco asked as he got off the couch.

Mario nodded. He was occupied with watching one of Kevin’s friend’s attempt to move an empty can with his mind. Marco only laughed at the bizarre scene and left for the kitchen. If he had thought that his kitchen could have not taken any more beer, Kevin’s definitely doubled that amount. He grabbed two bottles and turned around ready to leave, but something caught his eye. He had to step back to make sure he was not hallucinating.

“What are you doing here?” He asked from Kevin, who was crouching in the corner, with a rolling pin in his hand.

“What does it look like? I’m waiting for Mario to show up.”

“And what exactly do you want to do to him?”

“Well, I’m not going to teach him how to flatten dough, that’s for sure!”

“All right, you need to stop that!” Marco calmed him. “Maybe you don’t like it, but we’re back together with Mario and I’d appreciate if you did not beat my boyfriend.” It was the first time he called Mario his boyfriend.

“Yes, I’m sure he has sworn to do a lot of things and change and all that shit, but he can’t fool me. He’s just playing with you, Marco.”

“That’s enough, Kevin!” Marco was getting annoyed. “I’m not a small child. I can take care of myself, there’s no need for you to put Mario in his place. Especially not when you’re this drunk.”

“Are you sure?” Kevin asked, clearly disappointed.

“Yes!” Marco burst out laughing. “I appreciate your goodwill, but I can fight my own battles.”

“OK, then, but let me know when something changes.” Kevin finally agreed.

“By all means.” Marco left laughing.

He rejoined the party that became louder with every passing minute.

“Just a tip: don’t go to the kitchen alone.” He warned Mario as he handed him the beer.

“Why’s that?” The midfielder asked confused.

“Never mind.” Marco replied as he saw Kevin entering the room, without a rolling pin.

 

* * *

 

It was almost midnight and Mats was desperately looking around the room.

“What’s wrong? What are you looking for?” Cathy rested her hand on his shoulders.

“Nothing.” Mats tried to convince her.

“They are grown-up men; they don’t need you as a guardian angel.”

“Who?” Mats turned around to face his girlfriend.

“Marco and Mario.” She answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’ve been staring at them the whole night.”

“Oh. I just wandered what they are up to.”

He wasn’t glad that they were together again. Maybe they arrived separately, but it was only a lame effort of concealing their relationship the whole team used to laugh at. But as the night grew older he had to admit they looked a lot happier than before.

“You know, some say it matters who you kiss first in the new year.”

Mats was astonished by Cathy’s openness. He wasn’t surprised that she knew about them; after last week’s party it wasn’t so hard to figure it out and she never missed a single clue. But she was right: he should let Marco and Mario live their lives.

“So I shouldn’t leave now, right? Otherwise I might miss something.” He hugged her as Kevin started the countdown.

 

* * *

 

They were both gasping for air after a long kiss. They hadn’t turned on any lights, the room was almost pitch-dark. They looked at each other, their eyes already adjusted to the dim light. The shout that welcomed the new year still echoed in the house, but they had barely heard it. There was no one and nothing else, just the two of them.

“I love you so much.” Mario whispered.

“Happy New Year!” Marco replied.

“With you, Marco Reus, it will be.” Mario said and rested his head on Marco’s shoulder. “It will be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, it's a bit different than the previous chaps, allright, a lot, but I liked the idea so I wrote it. Let me know your opinion after you read it!


	16. A Secret Is Unveiled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco and Mario find themselves in an uncomfortable situation, but maybe it can help them with their relationship.

The winter break went really well; they were working wonders again on the training ground, much to their own and their teammates’ satisfaction. Despite the weather, Marco never felt cold, with Mario next to him, his heart warmed him more than it was necessary. Soon they rediscovered the special connection and they again tamed the ball, sending it wherever they wanted to. And no matter how tiring the training had been, they always found time to spend together or with the team.

Marco had never been happier his whole life. He noticed Mats’s sleuthing, as the defender kept an eye on them. He didn’t like it at all, but he knew Mats only tried to protect them from hurting each other’s feelings. But just before the start of the second half of the season it seemed that he had finally given up the role of the guardian.

Only a week remained from the mid-season break and they just finished another training.  Marco was exhausted and wanted to go home. He grabbed his bag and turned around to face Kloppo.

“You startled me, Trainer!” He said as he took a step back.

“I’m sorry, Marco. I just want to talk to you. Well, Hans and me.”

_What?_ Marco wandered. What did the CEO of the team wanted of him? Maybe they were going to offer him a new contract? But his agent hadn’t said anything and he had basically just joined. Or maybe it was about an ambassadorial duty for the team?

He nevertheless nodded and followed his coach to the office of the club chairman. Hans-Joachim Watzke sat in a comfortable office chair and stood up as they entered the room. He greeted them and offered them a seat on the leather couches. Meanwhile Marco noted that it couldn’t be about a contract, as neither his agent nor the director of sport were present. And soon his other theory was refuted, when Mario joined them after a shy knock on the door.

“Good! Everyone needed is here.” Watzke noted, without explaining what exactly they were needed for. “Coffee maybe?– I’ll have one.” He added after he got three shakes of heads as answer.

Mario and Marco looked at each other, communicating again only with their eyes. Neither of them knew what they were doing there and both were distressed by the situation.

“So the reason I called you here boys is–“ The CEO started but his sentence remained unfinished. “I don’t really know how to say this.”

“We’d like to know whether you are really seeing each other.” Kloppo helped him out with his usual straightforward style.

Marco could feel all his blood rushing into his head, but at the same time he blanched. Mario tried to control himself, but Marco could see that he was all nerves as well. They hadn’t expected this to happen.

“I know it’s uncomfortable for you and I respect your privacy. I wouldn’t ask this but it’s a special case, something that concerns the team. I hope you understand.” Watzke tried to ease the tension, without results.

“I don’t understand. Do you pry into other’s private lives too?” Mario stammered.

“No, and I don’t mean to be nosy, but–“

“Then I don’t have to continue with this nonsense!” Mario sprung up, ready to leave.

“Götze, you’re staying!” Klopp barked, and the midfielder indeed sat back down. “Believe me; I’ve got better things to do than speak about your private life, especially since I already know the answer. Maybe you’re taking it as a game, but it’s something that can affect the team if we don’t handle this the right way.”

“So now it’s a team business or what?”

“Mario, stop that!” Marco interrupted him before he lost his temper. “We are seeing each other. But with all due respect I don’t think it should trouble the team. We do everything to keep it secret and–“

“Certainly, certainly. We don’t have a problem with– well, _you_ , don’t worry.” The CEO calmed him. “We’d only like to make some things clear.”

“Like what?” Mario asked in his cynical voice.

“Do you want to make it public? Do you feel like you’re harassed by any of your teammates?”

“That’s unbelievable!” Mario burst out. Marco was surprised by his childish behavior. Of course he didn’t like the situation either, but at least they had the chance to get some support.

“We both understand what impact that could have on our careers, so we don’t want to make it public. And don’t worry about the lads; we don’t get any insults, even though some already know about us.” It seemed that it was Marco who had to be the grown-up this time.

“Yeah, _some_.” Kloppo laughed. Seeing their questioning looks he continued. “The entire team knows about you. They were just tactful enough not to make a big deal out of it.”

Marco was shocked. He knew about Mats and Kevin and he had expected some others to suspect something, but he definitively wouldn’t think that their relationship was an open secret. But at least he was relieved; he had feared of how they would react if their romance was exposed.

“Should we tell them then? I mean, officially.”

“You do what you want to do. I’m not going to tell you what to do. I’m not interested in your little affair as long as you keep performing. But I warn you: one false step and I’ll put you in your place.” Despite his stern look, Kloppo did not sound very threatening.

“Are we done here?” Mario asked, still upset.

“Yes, thank you for coming. I hope we did not offend you in any way. We just want to make sure you feel well at the club. So if you need some help or advice, you know where you can find us.” Watzke stood up and they shook hands. His words were maybe only cant phrases, but Marco was sure he meant what he had said.

“Can you believe them?” Mario burst out as Marco shut the door behind them.

“I can’t believe _you_.” Marco replied. “What’s come into you? You were being rude in there.”

“And what about you, then? Don’t you think you should have asked me before you started to talk about our private life?”

“What are you talking about? They already knew!” Marco was afraid they might start a fight. “Look, I just felt it was the best thing to do. It can help us. I don’t know how, but I’ve had enough of all this secrecy.”

“So what, you wanna come out suddenly?” Mario retorted.

“No. But they are our friends don’t you think we can trust them?”

“It’s not about trust.” The midfielder sighed. “But take us: we thought only we knew about us and it was true at the beginning. And now suddenly the whole team knows it, or at least has a very strong suspicion. Just imagine what would happen if we told them! Sooner or later it would become public.”

Marco understood him. Mario nearly lost the love of his parents; he wouldn’t risk losing the love of his friends.

“Okay then. But I think we could give up our precautions.” Marco suggested. Mario nodded in agreement. “Just imagine how lame we must have looked!”

“Maybe you. I’m always looking cool.” Mario joked.

“Oh, yeah? But you still love me, right?” Marco nudged him with his hip.

“Of course I do.” Mario whispered with a cheeky smile. He tiptoed to put a kiss on Marco’s cheek.

He took Marco by surprise. The winger hastily looked around to make sure no one was around. The hallway was empty.

“What was this?” He asked still stunned.

“What? You just said we should drop our precautions.”

“But all of them?” Marco looked at him.

“Yeah, we should probably sort that out first. Dinner maybe?” Mario suggested.

 

 * * *

 

As it turned out, Mario’s definition of dinner included him picking up Marco, driving to his place and then asking him to cook. But Marco didn’t mind. He knew it was the only way they could spend time together without any pretense and take-away wouldn’t have suited the occasion; and his culinary skills improved a lot since his first attempt.

Two hours later Marco was ready to serve, with Mario pouring two glasses of wine. For a moment Marco thought they had the perfect relationship. He shut out every trouble they had to face day to day and only concentrated on the moment. And whenever he did so, it felt like falling in love with Mario over and over again.

“It’s a bit too spicy.” Mario noted while they were eating.

“Comes from someone who can’t make a toast.” Marco offered an immediate quirk.

“Just kidding.” Mario laughed. “It’s delicious. Just like the cook.”

“Thanks.” Marco smiled. “So what about the precautions?”

“Well, I think we could go together to trainings from now on. And I also wouldn’t mind some more honest and natural touches there.”

“Me neither, but what about others?” Marco asked.

“Fuck them!” Mario replied jokingly. “If they know about us, there’s no point in pretending.”

“Yeah, but there will be reporters as well. What about them?”

“They can think whatever they want. We won’t admit anything and it’s normal if two guys spending so much time together get more comfortable with each other. Plus, I’ve got a girlfriend, if you’d forgotten.”

Marco gulped, just like he had to do whenever Ann-Kathrin was brought up in a discussion. No, he hadn’t forgotten about her and still hadn’t taken up with the idea of Mario’s quasi-girlfriend. In fact, he could not understand why Mario hadn’t broken up with her.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned her.” Mario added, noticing Marco’s discomfort.

“It’s okay.” Marco tried to shake it off. He saw that Mario sincerely regretted what he had said. But Marco had to find a way to cope with it; he could not make the midfielder pity him all the time. “Are you finished?” He asked looking at the empty plate before Mario.

“Yeah, thank you.”

“I’ll wash the dishes then.” Marco stood up, collecting the plates and the cutlery. He couldn’t help it, but wandered how domestic they looked. Like a family that had been living together for a few years.

“I’ll take care of that.” Mario stopped him, embracing him from behind, and then he added hastily. “In the morning.”

“Yeah, like that will ever happen!” Marco laughed and put the dishes in the sink. “Go on to the living room, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“You’re killing the romantic atmosphere.” He whined but did as Marco told him nonetheless.

“No, I’m not. I’m just making you wait for me.” Marco cried after him.

Mario answered only when Marco joined him on the couch.

“In both cases, it’s evil.” He smiled, handing Marco his glass that was filled again with wine.

“You realize we’re having a training tomorrow, right?”

“We’re not getting drunk, Marco.” He said and took a sip from his glass. “You know, I’ve thought about the meeting today and you were right. I shouldn’t have acted like I did. I’m sorry I burst out and I’ll apologize to Watzke and Klopp too.”

“Oh, it looks like someone’s growing up.” Marco said, proud of Mario. He often thought about him as his younger brother who has to be taken care of.

“It’s not that. I just feel like I’ve gotten rid of a big burden. And you’re right: from now on I’ll be able to show how much I love you more openly. And something that allows me that can’t be bad.”

Marco was speechless. He leaned in to kiss Mario. His lips were sweet of wine, but Marco recognized the familiar taste of Mario. He felt the younger one’s smile, before he opened his mouth, inviting in Marco’s tongue. And he eagerly obeyed. They broke the kiss after long seconds, both panting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and as always, please write your comments, opinion and suggestions.


	17. A Different Family Dinner - Pt. I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mario is enjoying his time with Marco until they get an unexpected invitation...

The season had restarted and they were playing again, something that Marco enjoyed more than anything. They kicked off the second round with two wins, but then registered a heavy loss on home ground. But there stood a much bigger challenge before them, the Champions Cup.

They played against Shakhtar, a team they barely knew. Marco hated such opponents. He’d rather face a tougher team, but one they played against many times and whose style was familiar to them. He had always disliked these games, and found them the hardest.

And his intuition proved to be right. They barely managed a draw. They were of course glad, Mats’ late equalizer was deserved, but still, they had to get out of a bad run. He was sure, their coach would think of a way to motivate them, but he struggled to cope with his own poor performances.

“The game still troubling you?” Mario asked on the flight back home.

He reached for Marco’s hand. They sat next to each other, in the last row, so no one could watch them. They had agreed that holding hands now and then probably would not cause any outrage, but they still tried to keep their relationship down as much as possible.

“It’s going to be all right.” He tried to ease Mario’s anxiety. “I just need to get back to the pitch and prove myself a point. That’s all.”

Mario showed him the smile he kept for when he found one of Marco’s features both funny and cute at the same time. Marco despised that smirk; he always felt like he was being laughed at.

“I can’t help it, Mario! I just want to be at my best all the time.” He explained with false resentment.

“I just envy your attitude. It’s perfect for a footballer. But you can’t be always good. You should give yourself some rest, switch off.” He now had the voice of a worried boyfriend.

“Okay, I’ll try!” Marco laughed, that drew some looks their way. Mario immediately let go of his hand.

The younger one put his headphones back. Marco squirmed a bit in his seat, then closed his eyes and fell asleep immediately. He woke up only as they started descending. The bus drove them to the training ground. They got a day-off for the next day; Marco received the news gratefully. He felt totally worn out and stumbled after Mario, and only then he realized they came with his car.

“Um, don’t you want to drive?” He asked the midfielder, showing him the keys.

“Would you risk your car?” Some things never changed, nor did Mario’s driving skills.

Marco gave up and hopped in his car, already starting the engine. He waited for Mario to put their suitcases in the trunk and they took off as soon as he fastened his seatbelt. They spent the drive in silence; neither of them could wait to finally get into bed. Marco’s street was empty and silent, except for the chirp of crickets. Just the way Marco liked it.

“You’ve got any plans for the night?” Mario asked once they were in the house.

“Really, Mario? I’ve nearly fallen asleep while driving.” Marco answered and for emphasis, he headed for the bedroom.

They didn’t bother to put away their clothes; they just dropped them on the floor. Marco put on a simple white T-shirt and gray shorts he used as pajamas – another strange habit Mario could not understand. They lay next to each other. Mario knew Marco wanted to sleep but somehow he felt he needed to tell him something, if he only knew what.

“I love you, Marco.” He whispered finally.

He should have come up with something more original, but that was all his tired brain could manage. Not that it mattered, as the only answer he got from Marco was faint snoring. Mario shook his head and turned to his side.

“Well, good night to you too!” He grumbled, closing his eyes.

 

 * * *

 

Marco woke to a sharp pain pulsating from his neck. He impulsively flung his arm towards the source of pain, only to slap Mario on the head. The midfielder reacted with a squeal.

“Ouch! Why did you do that?” He rubbed his forehead just above his eyes.

“What were you doing in the first place?” Marco turned around.

“Popping a nasty pimple.” Mario answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh really? So now you’re doing that?” Marco asked mockingly, almost unable to withhold his laugh.

“It was really nasty. You should have seen it.” He tried to vindicate his behavior with intense nodding. “Besides, your phone was ringing.”

“You could have just told me that.”

Marco reached for his phone and checked the time. It was almost noon. He had slept for twelve hours. The call was from Yvonne. Marco was in no mood to have a conversation with her sister, who – let’s face it – got under his skin quite often and easily. But maybe it was important, so he dialed her number.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear the phone.” He apologized when she picked up.

“That’s okay. I just called you to make sure you didn’t forget Dad’s birthday party tomorrow.”

“Of course I did not.” His lie wasn’t very convincing. “But I’m having a game on Saturday. I don’t think I can–“

“Don’t you dare continue, Marco Reus!” She shouted so loudly, Marco was sure even Mario heard her. “I’m not accepting any excuses. You’ll be there and I’d be glad if you could bring that mysterious crush of yours. So tomorrow, at six.”

She hung up before Marco could say anything. He sighed and dropped his phone on the bed.

“Shit!” He exclaimed.

“What’s wrong?”

“I forgot about my father’s birthday!” He was mad at himself. _How could that happen?_

“Too bad.” Mario shook it off as a trivial matter.

“Don’t sit on such a high horse, you’re invited as well!”

“What? Me?” Mario’s look was priceless.

“Well, not specifically you, but I ought to take my lover.”

“But you’re not really taking _me_ , right?” Mario stammered. He looked as if he had seen a ghost.

“Why not? You have something against my family?” Marco hadn’t liked the idea either, but now, as he had thought about it, he came to like it. And he, unlike Mario, did not have a girl to pull out for such occasions. “It’s going to be fine.” He added encouragingly.

“I don’t know– I just don’t think–“

“That’s enough! I’m not accepting no!” Sometimes Marco found Yvonne’s way of dealing with things very useful.

“Okay, then.” Mario sighed. “But what should I get your father? I don’t even know him.”

“Let me take care of it.”

 

 * * *

 

Marco drove Mario home in the afternoon then went to buy a present for his father. He finally decided on a chessboard with hand-made pieces. His father adored the game, and even tried to teach Marco to play when he was little. Marco learnt the rules easily but lacked the passion his father had and he simply could not think a few steps ahead: thinking and strategy had never been his strengths.

He decided to drop by his parents’ house and talk to his father about Mario. He was sure his mother had already told him about them, and even if she didn’t, his father would have no objections, but it seemed to be the proper thing to do. He walked to the front door and rang the bell.

“Marco, don’t you have a key?” His mother scolded him as she opened the door.

“I do, but I don’t live here anymore.”

“Yes, and you always like to point it out.” She smiled as he entered the house. “What brings you here?”

“Is Dad home?” He asked before he could change his mind.

“Yes, he’s in the living room. Is there something wrong?”

“No, I just want to talk to you about, someone.”

She rubbed his back encouragingly as they started for the lounge. Marco’s father was sitting in an armchair, reading a newspaper, but he put it aside as soon as he noticed them approaching.

“Marco! What a lovely surprise!” He greeted him with a wide smile. “I hope I can count on you tomorrow as well.”

“Sure, Dad. In fact, that’s what I want to talk about.” He sat down and took a deep breath before he continued. “I’d like to introduce you someone tomorrow.”

“That’s great news, son!” He immediately understood what Marco was trying to say.

“Yeah, but it’s a boy.” If his father heard about him having a boyfriend for the first time, he concealed it perfectly. Though Marco thought his mother had already mentioned it to him.

“You know it doesn’t matter as long as you’re happy.” His father reassured him.

“Yes, I know, but he had some problems with his parents when they learnt about us. Not that I don’t trust you or that I had thought that you might freak out or something, I just wanted to tell you in advance so it would not cause any misunderstandings.” He gabbled, wondering how lame he must have sounded.

“It’s okay, darling.” His mother sent him an encouraging smile.

“So, do we know him?”

_Yes, you probably already know who he is and you are just trying to fake an interest_ , Marco thought but said something totally different.

“I’m sure you do. Well, not in person, but– It’s Mario.” He said simply, before he could start a very lengthy and complex explanation.

“Götze?” His father asked just to be clear. Marco nodded. “Well, that doesn’t come as a surprise. It’s enough to look at you two on the pitch and it is obvious. At least for us.” He added hastily, noticing Marco’s scared face. “But doesn’t he have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah, he does. But it’s difficult.” Marco answered.

“Whatever. Of course he is welcome; you didn’t even have to _warn_ us.” His father got up and patted his shoulder.

“Are you staying for dinner? I can cook you something quick.” His mother turned to him.

“No thanks, I’m in a hurry. So see you tomorrow!”

 

 * * *

 

After he went home, he called Mario and caught him up on the news. The younger one was still afraid of the coming gathering despite Marco’s efforts to calm him down.

“And what should I bring your mother?” He asked, his voice trembling.

“Nothing, Mario. There’s no need to buy anything.”

“And what about your sisters? What will they think?”

“Mario, stop that! I’m getting tired of your nervousness. They won’t think anything.”

“Okay, I just don’t want to screw up. I still remember how thoughtful you were when we went to see my folks. You were incredible that evening!”

“Chill out, Mario. You’ll never reach my perfection.” His words made Mario laugh. “Just be yourself and that will do it.”

“If you say so.” He still wasn’t very convincing or calm. “Good night, Marco! I love you.”

“I love you too. Sleep well. Tomorrow you’ll do great.”

As soon as he hung up the phone, he realized how much he missed Mario. They had just talked, but it was different when they were next to each other. He took a shower and went to bed. He was almost asleep, when his phone vibrated. It was a message from Mario.

_Can’t sleep. :(_

Marco giggled and dialed the midfielder’s number. Mario picked up the phone on the first ring.

“Do you want me to sing a lullaby?” Marco asked.

“I thought you were already sleeping.”

“Almost. But after that a madman texted me.”

“I’m sorry. But I really can’t sleep. I’m all nerves.”

“And talking to me will solve that?” He lifted his eyebrows.

“No. But–“ He stopped uncertain whether he should continue. “Could you put the phone next to you? Hearing you breath would help.”

Marco had to muster all his self-control to hold back his laughter. Mario sounded cute and pathetic, so Marco could do nothing but lay back and put his phone on his pillow.

“Can you hear me this way?” He still couldn’t wipe off his smile.

“Yes, thank you. And I hope you don’t find this creepy or something.”

“Mario, just sleep finally.” Marco closed his eyes. He could not imagine how this would help Mario, but just after a few minutes all he could hear on the phone was the steady breathing of his boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, another chapter that seems like fluff to me, and I'm not sure yet whether I like it or not, but here it is. Feel free to share your opinions. :)


	18. A Different Family Dinner - Pt. II

Mario didn’t wake up with just a knot in his stomach; instead, his whole stomach felt like a single knot. He had barely slept the whole night, he startled awake in almost every hour, soaked in sweat. He realized that Marco had hung up some time in between. It was so like him; he didn’t complain about Mario’s strange ideas, but as soon as he had the opportunity, he stopped going along with them. In the end, Mario had to take some pills that gave him a dreamless sleep. But as soon as he woke up, his anxiety returned, like an old but unwanted acquaintance.

He got out of bed and took a cold shower, trying to cool down not just his body but also his nerves. It didn’t work. He tried to eat something, but he struggled to swallow even the smallest bite. He finally gave up and decided to take off for training. He could not concentrate on driving, all his thoughts circled around the evening. When he arrived, he took a few deep breaths before getting out of his car. No matter how he felt, he was not going to show it to his teammates, especially not to Marco. He knew how much this dinner meant to the winger and he didn’t want to disappoint him.

Before he entered the huge training complex, he checked his reflection on the glass door. He observed with satisfaction that considering his mental state, he looked quite normal. But his hopes were shattered by the first person he met inside.

“Are you alright?” Schmelle asked, worry in his eyes. “You look awful.”

“Yes, I just didn’t sleep well, that’s all.”

He went into the locker room, quickly changed into his training outfit and went to the restroom. Schmelle was right, he did look awful. He put his head under the tap and opened it. Cold water ran over his head and it felt perfectly. He heard footsteps approaching. He quickly straightened up and slapped his face a few times to give it some color. He stopped as the door flew open.

“Mario! You aren’t usually here so early.” It was Mats. “God, you look worn out!”

“Could you please not notice it?” Mario turned to the mirror. He had no idea what the defender was talking about. In his opinion he looked good. But after all, maybe he only wanted to see himself that way.

“Rough night with Marco?” Mats tried to joke.

“It’s only coming. He wants to introduce me to his family.” Mats burst out laughing.

“It’s so funny when you make a big fuss out of ordinary things. Okay, maybe your relationship is not usual, but that doesn’t mean that it’s not normal. If he wants you to meet his parents, he must take things seriously and he must be sure they will like you.”

“You think?” He asked, lifting his eyebrow.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Mats was the most surprised at himself for supporting their relationship.

“Thanks. And could you please not tell Marco about this?”

“I don’t think he’ll need anyone to point him out that something’s wrong with you.” Mats walked out, shaking his head.

Mario checked his face once more in the mirror then left for the pitch. And soon he found out that his look was the last thing he should have been worrying about. No matter how hard he tried, he could not produce a decent training session. The harder he tried the less he managed, and Klopp’s stern eyes didn’t help a bit. However, he was more concerned about Marco’s look.

The winger noticed his struggling immediately and studied him with pity, worry and even guilt in his eyes. Mario wanted him to stop; he didn’t like to be felt sorry for because it made him feel weak. There were a lot of thing he could not handle well, but he was surrounded by professional footballers his whole life and he learnt early how to conceal his feelings. Well, most of them– he had no idea how to cope with private troubles.

“Alright, guys. That’s it for the morning. Get some rest and see you at two o’clock.” Their coach announced the end of training. “Götze, I want to talk to you.”

Mario had expected it, and walked to Klopp with his head hung low while the others started off in the opposite direction towards the locker rooms. Marco sent him a half-encouraging and half-worried glance that Mario barely noticed.

“I thought I’d clearly said what I expected from you.” Klopp started. “Professionalism. Keeping your private life out of the pitch.”

Mario said nothing. He knew his coach was right. He stared at his own feet.

“Look, I know you’re young and I don’t want to be hard on you. But you must learn how to separate your career and your privacy. You need to put things in their places. That’s why I want you to leave now and have a day-off. And maybe you should take Marco as well.”

Mario lifted his head, desperate to change his coach’s mind. He understood what sending away meant. “No– I mean this has nothing to do with him. I don’t need time to sort things out. I want to play tomorrow.” His voice was trembling.

“I see, Mario. And I appreciate it.” Klopp put his hand on Mario’s shoulder. “But I cannot risk the team’s success because of one player.”

“Of course, I don’t want that. I just ask for another chance in the afternoon. I know I can pull myself together. If you’ll still think that I should not play, that’s okay with me. But please, don’t make me go right now.” He had never begged for anything before.

“Alright, Mario. One shot. No more.” He gave in after some consideration.

“Thank you.” Mario wanted to hug Klopp, but that would probably be pushing it. He turned around and was already running after his teammates.

“What did he want?” Marco asked him when he caught up to him.

“As if you didn’t know.” Mario said, deep in his thoughts. Despite what he had told Klopp, he had to compose his thoughts.

“Look Mario, if it really makes you this miserable, we can call it off. I’ll congratulate my father alone and we will find a more suitable time for you to meet them.”

“No, that would make me even more _miserable_.” Mario did not like the way Marco had talked about him, but he had to admit that he was probably right. “I’ll just have to get it out of my mind for a few hours.”

“Can you do that?” Marco asked, full of doubts.

“I have no other choice.”

 

 * * *

 

It later turned out that he hadn’t needed one. Knowing what exactly was at stake, he managed to put aside all his concerns about the evening. He was still very far from his best, but it was a leap compared to his performance in the morning. After the training he drove home hurriedly to have enough time to get ready.

He decided to do his best. He took a shower and even shaved that he rarely did except for before matches; and he didn’t really need to, as his facial hair was weak. They agreed that Marco would pick him up at half past five, and by the time he left his bathroom, only ten minutes were left until then. He rushed to his closet, and started to yank out his clothes one by one. He only decided on his trousers when Marco rang the doorbell.

“I need five more minutes. Come on in.” He said into the intercom and opened the door for Marco. The winger was in his apartment in two minutes.

“Did you get robbed, Mario?” He asked, pointing at the clothes flung around the room.

“Nah, I just couldn’t choose one.”

“Well, good luck cleaning up that mess.” Marco noted, sitting down on Mario’s bed.

“Instead of being sarcastic, you could help me.”

“Don’t make such a big deal out of it, Mario. Pick the first one you get out of the closet.”

“I should get something that matches your clothes, right?” Mario asked, occupied by his own thoughts. He looked at Marco. He was wearing a pair of white sneakers, black trousers and a simple yet elegant gray top.

“Pick the first one.” Marco repeated and this time Mario listened to him. He turned back to his closet and pulled out a white T-shirt with an image of a model on it. “Well, pick the second one.” Marco revised his advice that made them both laugh.

 

 * * *

 

They were at Marco’s parents’ home just on time. Mario sighed as Marco stopped the car. He felt like there was a fist in his stomach.

“Are you alright?” Marco shot him a worried look.

“Yes. I just wish we’d already be over with this.”

“Then let’s go.”

Marco leant forward and kissed him before they got out of the car. They walked to the front porch. Mario liked the house, it looked exactly like a cozy family home everyone would like to be brought up in. His heart beat harder as they got closer, and Mario thought it was ready to jump out of its place by the time they stopped before the door.

“Here we go.” Marco whispered then knocked. Mario was surprised when he felt Marco’s fingers entangling his and then the winger squeezed his hand encouragingly. It didn’t calm him down completely, but it certainly helped.

“Welcome boys, come on in.” A nice woman opened the door. She had Marco’s eyes, or rather Marco had hers.

“Thanks, Mamma.” Marco stepped inside, leading Mario after him. A man that must have been Marco’s father joined them in the hall. “The girls are here already?”

“Melanie is on a business trip somewhere in the world and Yvonne called in the morning, Nico fell ill, so they could not come.” He spoke with endurance in his voice.

“I’m sorry.” Marco mumbled. His father only waved his hand, but even Mario could see that he was sad. “But I hope it’s nothing serious. I mean, with Nico.”

“It’s probably just a mild fever, but Yvonne always panics.” Marco’s mother told them. “But maybe it’s better this way.” She added, signaling in Mario’s way.

“Oh, yeah– “ Marco started as if he had just remembered something important. “Mamma, Dad, I’d love to introduce–“

“Let’s drop the formalities, shall we?” Marco’s father stepped forward and patted Mario’s biceps a few times. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Thank you, Herr Reus.” Was all Mario managed to say.

“And here’s our present for you. Happy birthday!” Marco came to his rescue, handing his father a heavy parcel. Mario had no idea what had Marco bought. He watched as he opened it very carefully, to reveal a chess set. He could see gratitude and joy in his eyes. “Don’t look at me, it was Mario’s choice.” Marco added and Mario could barely withhold a ‘ _what?_ ’.

“Does that mean that you love the game?”

“No, I just thought you’d like it. Based on what Marco had told me about you.” Maybe Marco had meant good with his little fib, but in truth, Mario could barely remember the last time he had played chess.

“Too bad. I had hoped that we could try each other out. I play with the young man here now and then, but it’s far from challenging.”

“Thank you, Dad!” Marco retorted with fake resentment.

“If you’re done teasing each other, we could go and have a pleasant dinner.” Marco’s mother intervened at turned to his son. “I prepared your favorite.”

Marco’s favorite turned out to be goulash with potatoes, an info that Mario tried to store as important for the future. And the winger had good taste; the meal was delicious indeed. And their conversation was pleasant as well, though the Reuses mainly talked about relatives Mario had never heard of. He clearly saw that family was a very important for all of them and he could not imagine any way that they would upset each other.

After the dinner they went to the living room, where Marco started a more personal talk with his mother and Mario soon found himself with Marco’s father.

“He’s a good kid, you know.” Marco’s father changed the topic abruptly, after they had talked through Dortmund’s chances in different competitions. Mario could see in his eyes how proud he was of Marco. “Very sensitive and a bit reserved, but once you know his true self–“

“Yes, I think I already know it.” Mario ended the silence left behind by Herr Reus’s unfinished sentence.

“I’m really glad he’d met you. I mean it. It could not have been easy for him to get accustomed to the new surroundings. He had a lot of friends at Gladbach. But I see that he’s found something more back in Dortmund.” He smiled and Mario could feel that he had blushed. “Don’t be embarrassed! No offense meant.” He put his hand on Mario’s knee reassuringly. “Marco’s very caring; sometimes he puts other’s needs before his own. And there was also his career. I doubt he ever enjoyed the joy of being young. But maybe you can change that.” He paused then continued in a different manner. “Don’t even listen to me! Being this emotional is the best sign of getting older.”

Mario couldn’t help it and laughed, that drew a happy look and a smile from Marco. And Mario realized that his nervousness had vanished. And at that point it seemed that it would stay that way for ever. They were finally one hundred per cent happy for each other, all barriers gone, and they proved it the next day, when Marco netted three goals, two of them assisted by Mario.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is, I hope you like it. Thank you once again for your encouraging comments and kudos, it keeps me going. Again, feel free to share your thoughts, I'll be really glad to read them, they mean a lot to me.


	19. All I Need Is You Next To Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm warning you that this is more or less only a filler (pretty boring one) and nothing much happens, but there's also a bit of foreshadowing in it, so read carefully and once you finish, please share your thoughts and suggestions. It will be welcome. :)

They returned to Munich for the cup quarter-finals in the end of February. There was no real chance left to beat Bayern in the league, with the Bavarians already 17 points ahead and Marco did not believe in any Champions League glory. The cup was the only competition left for him and Mario to leave their marks on. And Marco was desperate to do everything he could to help them through.

But it wasn’t enough. The Allianz Arena denied them a victory again. Marco was furious. Everything had seemed so perfect and working, and yet, when it really mattered, they could not decide a game on their own. But after all, it didn’t have to be about them all the time.

Mario had been paired with Kevin in the hotel and Marco with Lewy. They were assigned into different rooms more often ever since they admitted their romance to their bosses. So Marco had to go over to Mario’s room, and was staring emotionlessly at nothing. He had gotten a few commiserating messages from his family and closest friends, but they could not fill the hole he felt right now.

“You know I don’t like when you’re like this. And you promised to stop mourning whenever we lose.” Mario walked to him from behind and embraced him.

“How can you do that? You’re acting like this loss doesn’t even matter to you. But I know that it’s not true.” He turned around, wrapping his hands around Mario’s.

“I just get over it, not giving myself time for brooding over. There will be other chances to win and we’ll take them, don’t worry.”

“Not in Munich. That arena seems like an impregnable fortress.”

“Maybe you’re right. But remember what Munich had done for us. The last time we were here we kind of started dating each other. Why don’t we make tonight special too?” Mario tried to take his mind off the loss.

“I’d love that.” Marco smiled. “But what about Kevin? Are you sure he won’t come back?”

“I know his way of dealing with losses and it barely ever ends before three in the morning. We’re safe.” His smile foretold some wild ideas he had. “So what should I order?” He picked up the receiver of the hotel phone.

“Nothing. I content myself with you.” Marco returned the smile and gently made Mario put back the receiver, kissing him passionately in the meantime.

“Well, it certainly sounds like fun.” Mario whispered.

They lay down on Mario’s bed, next to each other. Marco’s propped himself up on one elbow and started caressing Mario’s chest with his other hand. The midfielder closed his eyes and indulged in the moment.

“Now that I think about it, I think next season will be our time.” Marco said. “I mean beating Bayern.” He added for further explanation.

“Why do you think so?”

“Cause next year Guardiola will ruin them.” Marco smiled.

“Why would you say that?” Mario sounded a bit insulted, that surprised Marco.

“Tiki-taka in Germany? It won’t work. They need the constant pressing that Heynckes implemented. Anything else will fail and the fans won’t accept any possession football.”

“I think you’re wrong. Guardiola is a great coach and he can take Bayern one step further.” Mario refused to look at him, as if he had offended him.

“Alright, Mr. Fan Number One, I’ll leave your idol alone.” He laughed apologetically.

“There’s no need to mock me!” Mario grumbled; now he was clearly upset. He sat up and turned away from Marco.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” Marco got up and scrambled closer to Mario. He rested his head on Mario’s shoulder.

“It’s okay, I overreacted.” The midfielder turned around and gave him a peck. The hurt was gone from his eyes. “Listen, I’m really hungry. Why don’t we order a pizza?”

“I don’t think the hotel management would like that.”

“There are certain benefits of being a professional footballer.” Mario smiled.

And he was right. Half an hour later they were sitting cross-legged on Mario’s bed, a box of hot pizza between them. It wasn’t Marco’s favorite topping, but he did not want to risk another small squabble. The midfielder seemingly was in an easy-to-offend mood. But still, something troubled Marco. He had never seen Mario so passionate at defending someone else and he had expected Pep Guardiola to be the last such person.

“Will you eat those olive slices?” Mario asked, pointing at a small pile of them he had taken off carefully.

“You know I don’t like them.” Marco shook his head. “Listen, about that earlier thing–“

“Let’s forget it, shall we?” Mario looked at him and there was a twinkle in his eyes he always had when he had come up with something. “Hey, there’s something left on your–“

Marco immediately wiped his mouth with the back of his hand then looked at Mario questioningly.

“Here, let me.” The younger one leant forward and kissed him at the corner of his mouth. Marco burst out laughing.

“You know you don’t need a cover story to kiss me, right?”

“It’s more interesting this way.” Mario smiled.

Marco dropped his slice of pizza back into the box because he knew what was coming. Mario copied him and put the box on the nightstand. By that time Marco drew closer to him and pecked the back of his neck numerous times.

Mario turned around and pressed their lips together. Marco could taste the olives but he could not care less; the sweetness of those fleshy lips was stronger than anything. Mario reached forward and wrapped his arms around Marco’s neck, gently rubbing it with his thumbs. Marco felt like in paradise. Mario’s lips massaging his, the warmth of his cheeks radiating right towards him all sent shivers down his spine and blew his mind away.

And now the midfielder’s hands travelled down his back, grabbing his T-shirt and pulling it off. Marco wanted him to do it, even if it meant breaking contact. It was then that he realized he was out of breath.

“I’ve got an idea.” Mario stood up. “I’ll be back in a second, lie down on your stomach.” He instructed him then left to the small anteroom.

Marco had no idea what Mario was up to, but he complied willingly, resting his head on a pillow. It seemed like ages before he heard the younger one’s footsteps approaching, but every second spent away from Mario lasted forever for Marco. He glanced back under his arm and saw Mario sitting down on the bed, with a tube in his hands.

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.”

Soon Marco heard the popping sound of the tube being open and then felt something warm on his skin. He was about to repeat his question, when Mario put his hands on his back and started to knead all the cramps. _Is he really giving me a massage?_ , Marco asked himself, while the midfielder’s hands ran over his back over and over again.

“Do you like it?” Mario whispered and Marco could _hear_ his smile.

_Mhm_ was all he could manage. Mario’s hand gently pressed against his skin, making him jerk involuntarily. His blood was throbbing in his ears and he couldn’t even concentrate on his own thoughts. He soon gave up and cared only about Mario’s fingers.

He didn’t know how long the massage took, but he did not want it to end. Mario turned to his arms, giving them a few more forceful presses. The midfielder signalized he was done by a peck on Marco’s scruff.

“Thank you.” Marco whispered. He tried to turn on his back, but Mario stopped him.

“You shouldn’t turn around for a few minutes. Your skin must absorb the cream.”

“What’s good in you giving me a massage if I can’t kiss you afterwards?” Marco muttered against the pillow. He wasn’t sure whether he was understandable.

“It’s just for a few minutes. I’ll be ready for you after that.” Mario laughed and went to the bathroom to wash his hands. Marco couldn’t wait for him. He sprung out of bed and rushed after Mario.

“I thought I had told you to stay lying.”

“No. You told me not to turn around. You said nothing about standing up.” Marco snapped out of the situation.

“I shall be careful about choosing my words, then.” He closed the tap and started to dry his hands with a towel.

“Can you stop that?”

“Stop what?” Mario looked at him confused.

“You always come up with an answer. You must have the last word, don’t you?”

“Okay.” Mario said before he could realize he had just proved Marco’s words. “Sorry.”

“I know a way to make you shut your mouth.” Marco smiled and stepped closer to Mario.

He turned him around and before the younger one could say anything, Marco pressed his mouth against his. Their constant kissing was far from Marco’s idea of a relationship; he sometimes wanted to talk only, but they had never been good at that. On the other hand, Mario’s amazing kissing skills made him forget any discontent. They stumbled back into the room, never breaking contact. They slumped down on the bed, Marco atop Mario.

“I love you so much.” The winger whispered.

“I love you too.” Mario didn’t try to make it sound special.

“No, I mean it.” Marco mumbled between two pecks. “A year ago I couldn’t have imagined that something like us could work. Hell, I wouldn’t believe it in August. But look at us! Six months have passed and here we are– still together.”

“Yes, still together.” Mario was chewing on his words.

“What’s wrong?” Marco asked. His senses went crazy. “You’ve been strange the whole evening.”

“Nothing. I guess I’m just tired and I have some trouble accepting the defeat too. You shouldn’t be worried.” He smiled and caressed Marco’s cheek with his right hand. It was easier said than done, as Marco’s look did not change. “I’m fine.” Mario added for emphasis and stole a kiss from Marco.

Marco felt that it was getting awkward and he did not want to wait for it. He stood up, leaving behind a wandering Mario. He reached for his T-shirt and put it on.

“I should go. Kevin might be back any time now.”

“No, Marco, please! I don’t want you to go. God, I’m such an idiot! I wanted us to enjoy this night, I shouldn’t have let my concerns ruin it, I’m sorry.”

“Mario, don’t apologize for your feelings. I see what’s up. You need some time alone and I don’t mind.”

“No, Marco!” Mario sprung up and grabbed Marco by his wrist. “All I need right now is you next to me.”

Marco was overwhelmed. It was the most romantic and sincere thing Mario had ever said to him. He realized the midfielder wasn’t completely honest and there was more to the picture than a simple ‘dealing-with-a-loss’, but he couldn’t leave. Not now. They walked back to the bed and lay down next to each other.

“So what shall we do now?” Marco asked.

“For starters, let’s just enjoy the moment.” Mario mumbled and put his head on Marco’s chest.

 

 * * *

 

Robert went to bed early and swore not to get out of it until morning. But what had been only a gentle knock on the door became banging and his head was going to explode if it continued. He hauled himself off bed angrily and rushed to the door, ready to jerk it open and send away anyone who dared to trouble his sleep. But he was cut short even before he spoke up when he faced a clearly drunk Kevin.

“I’m sleeping here tonight.” He announced, already in the room.

“Okay, but why?” Robert shut the door behind him.

“Cause there’s a certain Marco Reus sleeping in my room, and I don’t want to be the third wheel.”


	20. Don't Leave Me

The return match against Shakhtar was a pleasant surprise, not only for Marco but probably for everyone connected to Dortmund. It was as if a different team had played. A team that controlled the game and won comfortably thanks to Mario’s goal among others’. And whenever Mario scored, Marco was happier than when he found the net.

In the locker room everyone celebrated like a madman, but they were in the UCL quarter-finals after all. And Mario led the celebrations, shining in the glory, but deservedly so. He was one of the match’s best, and Marco grinned from ear to ear whenever he looked at him. And then, Klopp entered the room, and brought them a bit back down to earth.

“Good job, lads, but let’s stay focused. We’re playing Schalke at the weekend and it’s going to be tough even without complacency. That’s all I wanted to say for now, we’ll meet tomorrow on the training ground.” Then the coach turned around and left. But Marco wasn’t left alone with his thoughts, as Mario slumped down next to him.

“I was hoping for a day-off, or at least he could dispense with the morning training.” He complained, rubbing his legs.

“Did you strain a muscle?”

“Nah, I don’t think so. Just the usual thing. But I’ll let the physios take a look, _Daddy_.” He added, catching Marco’s worried look.

Referring to Marco as his father whenever the older one cared too much was a new habit of his. Mario stood up and left for the medical room.

“I’ll wait for you!” Marco yelled after him. They became quite obvious about their relationship in front of their teammates in their conversations, but never showed signs of affection. And the others didn’t mind it, or at least they never complained.

He sat on a bench, watching his friends leaving one after another, or going to see the physios. Marco didn’t feel like he should have follow their example; his legs ached a bit, but it was just normal after ninety minutes of constant running. Plus, he did not like the physios so much. Of course they were only doing their jobs, and doing it great, but they always found some minor problem that made them worry and advised the player to skip training.

Ultimately he gave up the waiting, grabbed his and Mario’s bag and headed for the physios’ room. A narrow corridor led there from the locker room. Marco was about to turn at the corner, when he overheard a conversation. He immediately recognized the voice of one of the speakers; it was Mario. Marco gathered he was talking to Lewy, although the walls dampened the sound.

He shouldn’t have been eavesdropping. He was in a relationship with Mario; he should have just trusted him. He should have known that Mario would tell him about anything important. But Marco listened nonetheless. His sixth sense dictated that the subject of the conversation was something deeply concerning him.

“Mario, you can’t make that decision on your own.” Now Marco was sure it was Lewy. “You must talk to him first. It wouldn’t be fair.”

Marco froze. Were they talking about _him_? And what did Mario need to talk about to him? Robert made it sound like it was some serious business; involuntarily, the prospect of breaking up crossed Marco’s mind.

“I know. But how should I tell him? There’s no way of putting it gently.” Every single one of Mario’s words felt like acid to Marco.

“You must tell him sooner or later. The sooner the better.”

Marco had enough of it. He couldn’t listen to them anymore. He made a few steps backwards first and started off their way, to make his appearance look casual. By the surprise in their eyes, he had succeeded. The other two cut their talk short.

“I’m sorry; I could not wait for you.” He started as he turned at the corner, greeting Lewy with a nod. “Ready to go?” He turned to Mario.

“Yes.” Mario answered hastily, trying to conceal his uneasiness.

“I should get going too.” Lewy mentioned; a lame attempt to snap out of the awkward situation.

“Thanks, Robert.” Mario said to the striker, who was already on his way.

“What did you thank him for?” Marco inquired, not really expecting an answer.

“Nothing really, I just asked for some advice.” Mario got around Marco and for him, the discussion was over.

 

 * * *

 

Marco’s mother had always said that eavesdropping left you with one more question to wonder over. And her saying turned out to be true again. Marco was staring at the ceiling, with the main reason behind his pensiveness sleeping peacefully within arm’s reach. Marco tried to sleep, but whenever he closed his eyes, images of dreadful scenarios appeared. Mario was about to break up with him. The thought was written into Marco’s brain in flashing letters. And all he could do was ask himself what he did wrong.

He didn’t know when he had fallen asleep, but when the alarm clock woke them, he felt more tired than in the evening. They barely had a word with each other, both of them buried in their own thoughts. Mario drove them to training and the younger one quickly found company with their teammates. They left for the training pitch together, but then Mario turned toward a smaller pitch they used for running sessions.

“You’re not coming?” Marco asked.

“No, the physios ordered me simple running. Out of precaution.”

“You haven’t mentioned it.” Marco raised an eyebrow.

“You didn’t ask.” Mario shrugged his shoulder then continued on his way.

And now it was official, they had some problems again. But Marco had no time for brooding; he did his best to get his concerns out of his mind for the training. They only had a mild training session in the morning, but Mario had already had a shower by the time Marco returned to the locker rooms.

“Hey, it seems that I’ll finish earlier than you. Can I leave or should I wait for you?” Mario asked, never looking at Marco.

“No problem, I’ll ask someone to drive me home, or I’ll call a taxi.”

And Mario kept his word. When Marco returned from their afternoon training to the locker room, he was already gone. The winger was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he barely noticed Mats offering him a ride. He hastily said yes, before he could take into consideration the uncomfortable questions he would have to face. And the defender did not disappoint.

“What’s going on between Mario and you?” He asked, not taking his eyes off the road.

“I don’t know. He’s been acting strangely ever since the Bayern game. I don’t think it has to do anything with me.”

“I see.” There was something hidden in Mats’s voice and it took some time for Marco to realize what it was.

“You know something!” He burst out. He had never liked the role of someone who was always a step behind the others; and in this case, he certainly had the lower hand.

“You’re wrong. I’m as puzzled as you are.” It was a transparent lie.

“Mats! Tell me!” Marco practically demanded.

“Look, I don’t want to get involved in your relationship. Well– not any better. I just want to ask you to be more patient with Mario. I’m sure he’ll tell you what’s going on pretty soon. But let him take his time.”

“You’re making me anxious.” Marco started, but his phone’s ringing cut him short. He got his device out of his pocket and checked it. He had a text message from Mario:

_Dinner tonight at my place? x_

 

 * * *

 

If Marco hadn’t sensed already that Mario was trying to talk to him, he would have guessed it the moment he entered his flat and smelled delicious food. It was not the scent of heated take-away that was so typical at Mario’s; it was the scent of freshly prepared meal.

“Did you cook?” Marco asked the younger one astonished.

He repeated Mats’s sentence in his head: _Let him take his time_. That was all that kept him from charging at the midfielder, hungry for answers or some reassuring words, even if Mario didn’t have any. Even bad news seemed better than going over his thoughts. Not all bad news, but most of them.

“Yes.” Mario replied, with a clear pride in his eyes.

“What did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“You must have done something bad. Nothing else explains you cooking for me.”

“You cook for me all the time. I just want to return the kindness.” Mario was peeved.

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” He bounced back to his role.

But he couldn’t control himself for long. When he stepped into the kitchen and he saw the table set for two, with a pot of goulash in the middle, he burst out.

“Alright, Mario, tell me what’s going on! You’ve been acting totally different lately, and I have no idea what I did wrong. Did I hurt you?”

“It’s not your fault.” Mario mumbled. “Please, let’s sit down and have a nice dinner first, shall we? I promise I’ll tell you everything after that.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to eat anything.” Marco was shaking.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to eat anything _after_ either.” Mario whispered, barely loud enough for Marco to hear it. If the midfielder wanted to calm him down, he did a terrible job.

But Marco sat down. His boyfriend cooked for him, it would have been rude not to appreciate his intents. And the dinner was eatable, which was a great compliment, considering Mario’s culinary skills. Plus, it was Marco’s favorite, nothing could ruin it. Not even the tears he held back the whole time.

“Are you done?” Mario looked at him.

“Yes, thank you. It was very good.” Probably the easiest lie he had to tell that evening.

“So I guess I owe you some explanation now.” Mario started, staring at his empty plate. “I had a good reason for acting strangely for the past few days. I– I’ve got an offer from Bayern.”

Marco was glad he was sitting otherwise he would have missed his footing. He had expected something like _I’m breaking up with you_ or _I’ve had enough of pretending_. And he would have found a way to cope with these. But Mario’s words shocked him.

“What?” He stammered.

“They talked to me first after the cup game. Then they contacted my agent. They want to buy me out.” Mario refused to look at him.

And then it all became clear to Marco. The way Mario had defended Guardiola, that he had spoken about Bayern with such awe and recognition. They wanted him. The biggest German club wanted Mario. _His_ Mario. It felt like an invincible giant was trying to rob him and he was too weak to do anything about it.

“What about the management? Would they let you go?”

“They can’t do anything. It’s in my contract.”

“And what do you want to do?” He asked the hardest question and he could feel tears running down his face.

“I don’t know yet. Right now I want to hear your opinion. Both as a football player and as my boyfriend.”

“What?” Marco was out of breath.

“We’re a couple. It just seems natural to make that we make this decision together.” Mario finally lifted his head and Marco could see that he was crying too.

Marco was overwhelmed. Maybe Mario wasn’t an expert on expressing his love and devotion, but in the hardest situations he always found a way easier than Marco. And yet, his request was the evilest thing that Marco could imagine. How could he help make a decision that would take Mario away from him? How could he be reasonable when all he wanted to do was go to Munich and blew up the whole Allianz Arena?

“You already know both of my answers, don’t you?” He spoke up. “As a fellow footballer I’d tell you it is probably the biggest chance of your lifetime.” The words burnt his throat. “But as a boyfriend I’d not let anything stand between us.”

“Yes, but you turned down Bayern. Why did you do it, then?”

“Because I didn’t want to get paid for warming the bench. And I’m a Dortmund boy. Just like you.”

“No, I’m not.” Mario’s harsh voice startled Marco. “Yes, I grew up here and I’ve learnt everything about football here. But I’m not a Dortmund boy.”

Marco was shattered. He knew Mario wouldn’t be only a substitute at Bayern, and he had hoped that he could talk sense into him by reminding him how much he was loved by every fan.

“And what about all that trash about playing for Dortmund all your life and never leaving? You were supposed to be their wonder kid! The Golden Boy!” Marco called him for account.

“It’s so much easier to say something like that when you don’t get any offers.” Mario muttered under his breath. Marco didn’t say anything, so Mario continued. “Am I a bad person? For even considering leaving?”

_Yes, yes you are!_ Marco wanted to shout. _You should have told them that you had a boyfriend back at Dortmund and you wouldn’t be able to play against him and that they should fuck off!_

“No, you’re not.” Marco sighed. It was a torment to say it, but Mario was his boyfriend. He couldn’t lie to him. “It’s a big opportunity and I see it. And I want you to know that I’ll stand by you no matter how you decide.”

“Thank you.” Mario nodded. “I know how hard it is for you to say this, and I’m grateful for your support. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

_Then don’t leave me_ , Marco murmured a silent prayer.


	21. A Conspiracy for a Good Cause

They lost the away game against Schalke and Marco was struggling to put up decent performances, but he couldn’t care less. And surprisingly, his coach didn’t ream him out. He must have sympathized with Marco, and the winger was grateful for it. He knew that if it wasn’t for the special situation, he would have found himself on the bench. Mario on the other hand shined and Marco couldn’t tell whether to convince his potential future employers or to show his best while still playing for Dortmund. He secretly hoped the latter to be true.

They didn’t talk much about Mario’s transfer. The younger one brought it up from time to time but only to ask something from Marco, to get his opinion. They tried to be together as much as possible without thinking about the transfer’s threat, but it still hung above them like the sword of Damocles.

Both had been called up for international duty, but it was the first time Marco wasn’t looking forward to it. Just the prospect of being with Bayern players and pretending that he’s totally alright with them trying to get Mario was not to his taste. He couldn’t even play against Kazakhstan because of a stupid suspension. And to top it all, Mats, his not so secret ally, was injured and had to miss the qualification matches. They had been discussing different possible outcomes and ways for Marco to deal with them. Maybe he shouldn’t have spoken about Mario behind his back, but he needed someone to talk to and Mats was by far the most suitable for the role. Actually, if it wasn’t for the defender, he would have turned down the opportunity to represent his country.

In the hotel Mario and he shared a room. He was glad that they’d at least get some privacy after trainings. Their teammates from Dortmund knew about them but there was no need for the whole national team to learn it.

“Which bed would you like to have?” Marco asked as they entered their commodious room. The German Football Association liked to spoil their players.

“I was hoping we could push them together.” And again, there was the all familiar twinkle in Mario’s eyes.

“I don’t think so. Not that I would mind, but what if there’s an unexpected visitor?”

“You’re right. Then I’ll take the one closer to the window.”

“As usual.” Marco nodded.

Their first training session was mild, but Marco knew the Bundestrainer; it was going to get much harder. Even if the training wasn’t challenging physically, he had troubles going through it mentally. Seeing Mario practicing alongside the Bayern players was very hard. Especially when he thought that this might become normal in the next season. And it crossed his mind a lot of times; that made him unfocused and probably caused the worst training of his career for the national team. He wasn’t surprised when Löw wanted to talk to him.

“What’s happened, Reus? Previously you were the most eager at trainings and now you underperform. That’s not like you. I must say I’m glad you have that suspension; otherwise I’d have to drop you from the starting eleven. But I’m counting on you on the home game. Can you pull yourself together by that time?”

“Yes, I can try.” Marco muttered under his breath.

“Good. You’re dismissed, then.” The coach nodded.

“ _Trainer!_ ” Marco stopped him. “I was thinking that I’d go back to Dortmund while you’re playing in Kazakhstan. I don’t think there’s any reason for me to stay here. I can train back there as well, and I’d be back for the team trainings.”

Löw stared at him expressionlessly, considering his options and then finally nodded. “OK, whatever works for you.”

When he returned to his room, André was waiting for him, sitting on Mario’s bed. He lazily watched as Marco got ready for a shower and waited for him to come back. Marco sighed while he got dressed. He had a feeling that they were going to have a conversation about Mario and him. He knew he needed it, but he would have preferred to ask for it himself and not have someone around who did it on his own, out of benevolence. Marco wasn’t a child to be tended.

“So are the rumors true?” André asked.

“What rumors?”

“Mario moving to Bayern.”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Marco asked back irritated.

“Because I’m asking you. How do you get by?”

“What do you think? I’m flattered at the prospect.”

“No need to be sarcastic. I’m trying to help.” André defended himself.

“How? Do you have spare eight millions to give him every year? Or can you persuade Klopp to step down and Guardiola to take over Dortmund?”

“No, but I can persuade Mario to save your relationship which is obviously in ruins. Did you talk about what to do if he leaves?”

“No. Once someone advised me to deal with problems as they arise and not sooner.”

“That someone must have been a very wise man.” André grinned recognizing that Marco had been talking about him. “Just wait and see. I’m going to bring back a completely different Mario from the far Kazakhstan.”

The next days consisted of trainings and team buildings. Löw’s idea was to forge together the players from different or even rival teams to get something more superior. In that case, Marco wasn’t the role model for the others. He got on well with most of his teammates, but whenever he had to talk to a Bayern player, their conversation was shallow, mainly concerning football.

He could barely wait for the time for the national team to leave and the chance to get back to Dortmund. He had spoken to Mats and they had planned to watch the game together. He knocked on the defender’s door just before kick-off.

“Hey, Marco. Come on in.” It was Cathy.

“Hi, I didn’t know you were going to watch the match as well.”

“What other choice do I have?” Cathy sighed and Marco laughed at her comment. He liked her, she was very supportive and Marco guessed she was the reason behind Mats being so balanced all the time.

They watched the game mostly in silence, cheering at every German chance. And then Mario scored and Marco felt the familiar warmth, waving through his body over and over again. But at the same time he was irritated by his friends staring at him.

“What?” He asked annoyed.

“It’s good to see that you still feel happy for him. I mean– against the _possible_ transfer.” Mats explained grinning. Marco only nodded at that.

“So everything’s fine between you?” Cathy asked, much to Marco’s surprise. He immediately sent a darting look at Mats.

“Before you start hating me: she figured it out herself, I kept my mouth shut.”

“God, you’re killing me!” Marco grumbled. “Everyone’s trying to tell me that I should accept whatever he decides. It’s not that easy! I don’t want to be only a passive observant of the proceedings! You can’t relate to my situation, so stop pretending that you can.”

“Well, I think Cathy here would like to disagree.” Mats noted silently.

“Great, now you’re comparing me to a WAG!” Marco snorted than turned to Cathy. “No offense meant.”

“None taken.” She nodded. “But if I may say, right now you’re certainly acting like one from the worst kind. Ann-Kathrin, for example. I’m starting to realize why Mario chose her above all.”

“What?” Marco couldn’t believe what he had heard.

“You have more in common than you’d think or admit. You’re both trying to dispossess Mario for yourself. But he is a human being. He has his own life; he must make his own decisions. And he cannot do that without your assistance.”

Marco listened to her with his jaw dropped. He took some time to process her words and then looked at Mats. “Is this some kind of an evil plan?”

“You know me.” Mats answered laughing, his hands held high. “You were bitchy and getting to everyone’s nerves.”

“So, what do you say? What should I do?” Marco yielded and turned back to Cathy.

“First of all, talk to Mario. Ask how exactly he feels. Then tell him how _you_ feel. Then I’m sure you’ll sort things out.”

Marco thought it was easy to say that. If only he knew how he felt about everything. He still loved Mario, without doubt and would love him no matter what; it was their relationship he was worried about. He knew he could cope with Mario playing for Bayern. He knew Mario could cope with Marco staying in Dortmund. But whether _they_ could work together, he could not tell. And Cathy must have noticed it in his eyes.

“Mats, could you bring me some wine? I swear I saw a bottle of good red in the kitchen.” Mats must have understood that she wanted some time with Marco, because he left without further ado. “Look, Marco! What I’m going to say will be very sloppy, so I didn’t want Mats to hear it. But you’ve got to listen to your heart. What does it say? If this love of yours is really strong, it will overcome any problems, but if it is not, you must ask yourself whether it is worth this all.” She might have wanted to continue, but Mats returned in record time.

“Thanks.” Marco whispered and watched the rest of the match in complete silence, without seeing the actual happenings on the pitch. He was devoted to his thoughts and by the time the referee blew for full-time, he knew exactly what he had to do.

 

 * * *

 

He was back at the team’s hotel before they returned from their game and was waiting for his teammates in the lobby with a few members of the staff. He was staring at his shoes when he heard the bus stop before the building. When the first players entered the foyer, the waiters and bellhops started cheering. He got on his feet and started off their way.

“Reus.” The Bundestrainer stepped to him. “Have you worked out everything?”

“Yes, thank you, coach.” Marco nodded.

“Good.” Löw smiled and it was a rare occasion. He patted Marco’s shoulder and left just before André stopped before Marco, dragging along Mario by his neck.

“Here! Your present just the way I had promised.” André smiled and immediately left them alone.

“Congrats on your goal.” Marco smiled.

“Thank you. But what did André mean?” Mario asked, still confused.

“Never mind. Hey, I had hoped we could talk later in our room, if that’s okay with you.” He added hesitating.

“I was about to ask you the same. But why don’t we go for a walk? It’s a bit chilly out there, but–” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Sure.”

So after dinner they excused themselves and left the common room. Mario was right: it was cold indeed, so Marco had to pull up the zipper on his coat. As they walked in the starlight, everything seemed so unreal to Marco. He had the urge to hold Mario’s hands, but the national team was in the focus of attention, there could have been reporters anywhere near.

“Let’s sit down.” Mario pointed at a bench in the hotel’s park. “And before you start,” he added as they reached the bench. “I want to say I’m sorry. I’ve been busy with my thoughts lately and didn’t really pay attention to you and your feelings. And I want to change it, so if you want to shout at me or anything, go on!”

Marco dropped his jaw. He wasn’t expecting such willingness from Mario. Maybe André had done his wonder after all.

“I was about to ask you the same.” Marco laughed. “I’d like to know what your decision on your transfer is.”

“I haven’t decided yet.” Mario sighed after a few seconds. “Not for sure. My brain tells me to go, and half of my heart agrees, but there are a lot of things that keep my in Dortmund. A lot of people. _You_ , mostly. And you alone could outweigh all that Bayern can offer me.” Marco was speechless and the younger one used his silence to continue. “God, it’s hard. I guess there’s no outcome that pleases everyone. Whatever I choose, a part of me will want to kick me.”

Marco laughed at Mario’s comment even if the midfielder hadn’t meant it funny. To his own surprise, he processed Mario’s words quite well. He had expected to lose his mind when Mario told him that he’s on his way out or at least he’s inclined to it. But he was okay with it. If he had to be honest, he had known what Mario’s decision would be from the very moment the midfielder told him about Bayern’s offer. He had seen it in his eyes: he simply had to take such an opportunity. And Marco couldn’t blame him. If it wasn’t for Dortmund, he would have accepted it as well.

“I wanted to hate you for considering leaving.” Marco said dryly. “Maybe I still want to. But I can’t. I’m crazy about you and nothing can change that. But I realized – or rather someone pointed out to me – that you’re not just mine. And I don’t want you to choose something you don’t really want just because of me. You have only one career, Mario. Take this chance.” He was crying when he uttered the last sentence. He felt that it was the moment he gave the final push to Mario’s departure.

“Oh, gosh!” Mario leant over to Marco and embraced him. Marco’s feeling cold vanished immediately, as he sensed the warmth of the midfielder’s body’s all around himself. “I don’t know what to say. I don’t deserve you, Marco.”

And then Mario forgot about all precautions, about all the reporters and kissed Marco. His lips were salty from his tears, but as Mario’s tongue found a way between Marco’s teeth, he recognized the familiar taste of his boyfriend. They closed their eyes and kissed as if they were alone in the whole world until they were both out of air. Marco was still shivering from crying, and Mario didn’t let him go. And he made a silent promise to himself never to let Marco walk out of his life.

 

 * * *

 

Three days later Mats was sitting before his TV, cuddling Cathy on his couch. It was the middle of the twenty-seventh minute and Germany were already up by one thanks to Marco’s goal when Mario found the net. The camera closed up on the scorer and then Marco entered the picture; both of them were cheering and smiling.

“It seems that André did his part of the job as well.” Mats nodded satisfied.

“I still feel a bit guilty about interfering in their life.” Cathy said.

“It was for a good cause.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So after a bit teary chapter here's a happier update (at least in my opinion, maybe you'll prove me wrong). Feedback is welcome, as always. I was also considering writing shorter chapters, but updating more often, so you could give me your opinion on that as well.
> 
> P.S.: Thanks for almost 200 kudos. :)


	22. Thank You For Giving Us Back Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's a long chapter, I hope you'll read it though. Some hurt and comfort, a football game and a lot of drama. Your feedback is very much welcome.

“Oh my God, did you really wee on Málaga’s pitch?” Marco asked laughing, staring at the display of his tablet.

They were sitting in Mario’s living room after a tormenting training the day after the away game. Everyone was a bit outraged when Klopp told them that they’d have a practice despite the tiring schedule, but his decision was valid: a goalless draw wasn’t the result they could be satisfied with. But all the training resulted in was a group of exhausted players. Marco himself felt he couldn’t move a single part of his body and he only wanted to sleep for twenty-four hours straight.

“So what? I had to go.” Mario shrugged. He clearly had enough of his teammates’ teasing. The younger one slid closer to him and whispered into Marco’s ear. “But if you want to know the whole truth, I wanted to do something else with my prick, but you weren’t nearby.”

“Ew, that’s gross!” Marco drew away, but with a smile on his face.

“And we both know it turns you on.” Mario pushed forward.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Marco shook his head, but his bulge contradicted him and Mario noticed it as well. “God, I’m so tired.” Marco yawned, not seeing any other way out of his situation.

“You’re unbelievable! I’m doing my best to make some romantic atmosphere and you wave away all my endeavors.”

“I think your definition of romantic doesn’t match mine, then!” Marco laughed.

Mario sighed and tried to say something, but his phone cut him short.

“Whoever it is, I’m gonna kill him.” He swore then got up. But when he noticed who the caller was, he broke his promise and picked up the cell hurriedly. “Hello? A moment, please.”

He rushed out of the room, leaving behind Marco occupied with his thoughts. Who could have been the caller? He had some very good guesses, but tried not to overthink those possibilities. He constantly had to remind himself to trust Mario and hope that the midfielder would share with him everything important. He reached out for his tablet, but Mario was already back.

“It was my agent.” He sat down next to him. “They reached a deal. I’m supposed to sign the contract next week.”

“And why are you saying this like an announcement of death?” Marco tried to cheer him up.

He still hadn’t completely accepted Mario’s decision, but it was him that had supported the younger one. Now there was nothing left to him, but to stand by his words and pretend that he’s happy for Mario, which he was, partly. But another part of him made him get a lump in his throat whenever he imagined Mario in a red jersey.

“There’s no need for you to pretend, Marco. I know you hate me.” Mario said, much to Marco’s surprise.

“What are you talking about?” Marco burst out. “Okay, maybe I’m not the gladdest at your transfer as your teammate, but as your boyfriend, I feel happy for you. If this is what you want, you should be grateful for getting this opportunity.” His words sounded false even to him.

“Yeah, sure.” Mario muttered, disbelief in his voice.

“What do you want me to do, Mario?” Marco shouted. “Be mad at you? Blame you for everything? Despise you? Or what?”

“It would be more honest.” Mario admitted with a nod.

“What the hell is wrong with you? I get it, you expected me to freak out or avoid you, but I don’t want to. I understand your decision, don’t you get it?”

“Yeah, I get it. I just think it’s bullshit. You can’t be so okay with me leaving. Especially to a rival team. It’s just not possible.”

“Oh, really? You want to hear the truth? I couldn’t care less whether you leave Dortmund or not, because sincerely, right now, I don’t care about the team. I’m only sad that you leave _me_ behind. I don’t feel like you’re betraying the club, I feel like you’re betraying _us_. I’m afraid, Mario.” His voice trembled; he hadn’t expected himself to be so open. “I fear that one day I’ll call you and you won’t have time for me, because Bayern will be more important. I’m afraid they will steal you from me. And if you cannot trust me anymore, they are already doing a great job.”

Marco started crying. Mario was right, he had suppressed his true feelings not to trouble them in the time they could spend together, but now the barrier had collapsed and everything that he kept deep down, emerged. He wanted Mario to embrace him, to let him cry on his shoulders, but the midfielder only stared before himself.

“I am afraid too.” He mumbled. “Now that I have to put pen to paper, I’m not so sure about what would be the best for me anymore. I enjoy playing for Dortmund, it’s not that. But I feel I’ve learnt everything that I could. I want to win titles, and if Bayern will keep building, we won’t stand any chance against them. But what if I will flop?”

“Come on, we both know that could never happen.” Marco managed to utter through his tears.

“You’re so sure about me. Why can’t _I_ be like this?” Mario shook his head, on the edge of crying.

Marco took a deep breath. A few moments earlier he was the one needing some reassurance, but now, watching Mario, who looked like a complete wreck, he understood he had to pull himself together.

“It’s normal.” He patted Mario’s shoulders. “When I got an offer from Dortmund, I went over the same. Then along came Mario Götze and I got over it very soon.”

Mario smiled a little, before turning miserable again. “And now I’m leaving you.”

“What, you already have someone in Munich?” Marco asked with faked jealousy.

“No, I don’t mean that. But you have to take my shit all the time. It’s not how I should treat you. It’s not the way our relationship was meant to be.”

“Let’s face it, our relationship wasn’t meant to be at all. And yet, we’ve fought through some serious troubles and we can survive this one as well. But only if we stay together. So now I want you to look at me, and smile.” Marco remembered the way his mother cheered him up whenever he was sad.

And Mario lifted his head, hope in his eyes and managed a grin.

“I don’t deserve you.” He whispered.

“You keep saying that.” Marco laughed.

“Because it’s true.” Mario mumbled, drawing closer to Marco.

They found themselves facing each other, only a few centimeters between their faces. It was Marco who made the final step and pushed his lips against Mario’s. That kiss meant a lot more than any other. Marco felt like it sealed a promise that they would not part.

 

 * * *

 

The home game against Málaga didn’t go the way they planned. They had known they had to win the match if they wanted to get to the semi-finals, but they hadn’t expected the drama they had to go through.

The injury time had just begun and they were down by one. Marco was in low spirits, completely hopeless, along with ten of his teammates. On the stands, he saw sixty thousand hopeful fans, though they also knew the team needed a miracle. Then, out of nowhere they found themselves in a scoring opportunity and the ball got before Marco, he couldn’t tell how. All he saw was the open goal in front of him. He swung his left foot and started off to recollect the ball and to deliver it to the center-spot before it crossed the line. He didn’t even realize he made the teams all square. It was still not enough.

It took him two minutes two get into another chance. This time he couldn’t hit the ball well and it dribbled to the middle, where it bounced before the goal line. Marco could not see the moment it was buried. He only heard the shouts coming from the Südtribüne and a second later from all around the stadium. The miracle they needed to stay in the Champions League became real. They were in the semi-finals.

He didn’t hear the referee’s whistle for full time, either. Then he spotted Mario running toward him like a madman and jumping into his arms.

“Thank you for giving us back hope.” He shouted, and Marco couldn’t tell whether he meant the team or just the two of them.

 

 * * *

 

The next morning Marco still had an adrenaline rush. He woke up with Mario sleeping on his chest, the best scene he could imagine, even if the young midfielder’s head felt a bit heavy on him. Mario’s soft breaths tickled his skin, but it was something he enjoyed. He reached for his phone, careful not to wake up his boyfriend. It was almost time for them to leave for training, but looking at Mario he couldn’t bring himself to trouble him in his sleep. _Just five more minutes_ , he thought.

It turned out, he didn’t need to wait that much, as Mario suddenly took a deeper breath and opened his eyes, blinking to get fully awake.

“Good morning.” He smiled at Marco.

They had gotten rid of every hidden feeling in the last days and now it seemed to them that their relationship was the healthiest possible, considering the circumstances. Looking at Mario in the sunlight, his face still carrying the signs of sleep, certainly reinforced Marco’s belief.

“Morning.” He whispered, full of joy. “Did I wake you?”

“No. What’s the time?”

“We need to leave soon.”

They got up after a few minutes, took a shower together (both because they didn’t have enough time and because they felt they couldn’t spend a moment away from each other) and hurried out of Mario’s flat. They were skipping breakfast again, something Marco was getting used to by now, but it still resulted in some fatigue after morning trainings.

They arrived at the training ground earlier then Marco had expected. He blamed it on Mario’s frantic driving; the midfielder still thought that the rules were there to be broken, but what really surprised Marco was when a policeman had caught them but ultimately let them go when he noticed who they were. Marco didn’t like to misuse his fame to get out of such situations, but Mario was seemingly okay with it.

“Go on, I have to talk to Kloppo first.” Mario said as they entered the main building.

Marco didn’t have to think twice before he understood what Mario had to tell their coach so urgently and his guess was proven to be right five minutes later when Mario joined them in the locker room, with Klopp’s instruction: _Team meeting in ten minutes_.

The common room was full of curious faces. Such meetings weren’t conventional. Everything Kloppo wanted to tell them, he told them on the pitch. Marco and Mario entered the room together, Marco headed to their usual place in the back, but Mario held him back.

“Let’s sit in the front, please.”

Marco didn’t say anything just nodded in agreement. He saw Mario’s worried face and that was enough for him. They sat down on a couch, their hands just millimeters away. Klopp was punctual as always; he didn’t beat around the bush, he started in his straightforward manner.

“Yesterday you played well, but only in the last few minutes. We have to work on that. I don’t want you to dwell on the drama and think that everything’s fine. And to help us forget about it, I have an announcement to make. Well, Mario has,” He basically hissed the name, Marco had never heard anything similar to it. “who is leaving us at the end of the season.”

At that moment Marco realized why Mario had asked him to sit there. He didn’t need to turn around to know everyone was watching them, darting looks stabbing Mario’s back. And things just turned worse after the coach’s next words.

“For Bayern.” Klopp continued. Marco could sense that Mario wanted to vanish off the face of earth and he actually did everything he could to do so, almost lying on the couch. “Now, I know you don’t like his decision, but I expect you to take it professionally. You can hate him or disagree with him, but I won’t tolerate any signs of it before the end of the season. Mario is still a very important member of our team; I want you to treat him like one. Do I make myself clear?”

Marco heard a few mumbled yeses, and the atmosphere turned a bit more pleasant. Mario must have felt the same way, as he straightened up.

“I think you should give them some explanation.” Marco leant over and whispered into Mario’s ear. The younger one nodded and stood up warily.

“Can I say a few words?” He asked, his voice shaking. Klopp signalized his approval with a jerk of his hand. Mario thanked him then turned around, facing hostile eyes. “I won’t try to justify my decision; you have all right to despise me. I’m okay with it. I hope you will understand my position though: I’m young and won’t have a lot of chances like this. It has nothing to do with the team; I’ve been feeling great here for the past years and I still do. This transfer seems like a step forward for my career, so my decision was completely personal. That’s all I wanted to add.” He collapsed back on the couch and Marco squeezed his hand.

“Alright, I give you half an hour to talk over the news. After that I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

Marco expected intensive shouting and outbursts from their teammates after Klopp left, but it seemed they had much more respect to their coach. Some of them pretended that nothing had happened and tried to make the most out of the thirty minutes they were given by playing table football or chatting. Others just left the room, and there were a few that even congratulated Mario on this opportunity. And then there was Kevin.

Marco had had a feeling that it was going to be the defender causing the most trouble and he didn’t disappoint. He stopped before Mario, wearing his angriest face.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He practically yelled. “Selling out to our rivals? Would you have accepted _Scheisse’s_ offer if they had given you more? Dortmund gave you everything you little piece of ungrateful shit!”

“Kevin, I think it would be the best if you left right now.” Marco stood up, employing his calmest voice; however, he was shaking in rage.

“I’m not talking to you!” Kevin turned to him, pouring all his emotions on Marco. “Don’t you think he will exchange you for someone else too? I don’t get you, Marco! You should be angrier more than anyone! Or are you leaving as well? Is he just going there to make the foundations for the next chapter of your little romance?” The whole room went silent immediately.

“That’s enough!”

Mats appeared out of nowhere, grabbing Kevin by his arm and shoved him away from them. Kevin wanted to continue, but noticed everyone was looking at him with disgust in their eyes, so he shut his mouth and left hurriedly. Marco stood in the middle of the room, still not believing what had just happened. It wasn’t that Kevin revealed them; there probably wasn’t a single one in the team who didn’t know about them, but he disrespected their privacy and used against Marco what could hurt him the most.

“You didn’t hear that!” Mats instructed the players still standing unbelievingly in the common room. Marco managed to look around and noticed relieved that he could trust all of them. They all nodded in approval and sent encouraging looks toward Mario and him.

The awkward silence didn’t cease for the rest of their half-hour. When they were needed on the pitch, they left one after another, Mario and Marco being the last ones left in the common room.

“Are you ready to go?” Marco asked his boyfriend. Mario didn’t say anything, just nodded. “Didn’t go the way you planned, huh?” He tried to chat. Again, the answer was only some humming.

So Marco gave up. He knew Mario, he’d admit that he has to talk about everything that had happened only after some time, but Marco was willing to wait and be there when needed. On their way they stopped before the restroom and Mario went in to pull himself together.

“Marco?” He heard a cautious voice in the hallway. He soon noticed Kevin standing in the shadows a few meters away. “I’m so sorry for what I said. God, I’m such a jerk!”

“We agree on that.” Marco said jokingly. Kevin was one of his best friends, with all his virtues and flaws; he couldn’t really be mad at him.

“I shouldn’t have brought up your relationship, especially not in front of others. I just lost my temper and didn’t think. Can you forgive me?” Kevin made a few careful steps toward him.

“Of course I can. I know you didn’t mean it.” Marco smiled. “But I’m not the only one you should apologize to. When his transfer will be made public, a lot of people will turn against Mario. He will definitely be grateful for some help from his friends.”

“Sure.” Kevin nodded.

“Who are you talking to?” Mario started as he opened the door then stopped as soon as he noticed Kevin.

“Hey, Mario. I think I owe you an apology for what I said.” Kevin didn’t know what to say. _And I thought we had awkward situations with Mario_ , Marco thought.

“It’s okay, Kevin. You were right, partly. At least about my transfer. I just want to be over with all this drama.” Mario sighed. He had clearly had enough of conflicts.

The training wasn’t usual at all, most of the team were sore at Mario and didn’t pass him the ball very often, much to Klopp’s dislike. But they got through it nonetheless, and in the afternoon, things got better, with a training match that resembled their teamwork a little bit. It seemed to Marco that Mario handled the situation quite well, but the midfielder broke down as they were sitting in the car.

“Why do they hate me?” He cried out.

“They don’t hate you.” Marco reassured him. “They need some time to accept your decision. Just like I did. It will get better.”

Except, it didn’t.


	23. A Faceless Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, if I thought the previous chapter was long, I don't know what to call this one. I just hope you'll have the patience to read it, but if you don't want to do it in one sitting, you can stop at the four stars sign (in honour of Die Mannschaft :), that's where kind of a new story starts.  
> I didn't expect myself to write this so quickly, but yesterday I just sat down and kept writing until my fingers hurt, so here it is, maybe enjoy it before Marco and Mario take to the pitch in real life. Oh, and the song I'm referring to in the text is called Bayern by Die Toten Hosen, you can check it out. And please leave some feedback, it will be well appreciated.

Mario was leaving for Bayern and now the whole world knew it, but on that Wednesday evening no one seemed to care. They beat Real Madrid, one of the biggest contenders for the UCL title and everything was ready for an all-German final. The 4–1 victory gave them a lead that practically secured their place in Wembley. But Marco couldn’t think about it at all. He was jumping around on the pitch like a madman with Mario on his side. One of their childhood dreams was becoming true.

That evening even Kloppo smiled from ear to ear, not trying to bring them back to earth. He knew it wasn’t possible. They returned to the training ground with the team bus, and Marco could have sworn that at that time it was the loudest place on earth. Every single player was shouting or singing. They didn’t want to leave each other’s company; ideally they would go out somewhere together and get drunk, Kevin went as far as to give voice to this wish, much to the dislike of their coaches.

But in the locker room no one could keep them from planning everything carefully. Not that they had much options to choose from, there weren’t many pubs still open in Dortmund discrete enough to let them celebrate behind closed doors. So it took them almost no time to agree on the place.

“I think I happen to have the number of the owner.” Kevin announced in a manner that made everyone laugh. “I just can’t find my phone. Robert, could you ring me up?”

Marco immediately knew that Kevin was trying to set up something special, he just couldn’t guess what. But in the next moment everything became clear, when Kevin’s phone started ringing with the chorus of a well-known song. _‘We would never go to FC Bayern Munich’_ , the speakers of Kevin’s phone shouted. A few held back giggles could be heard from all around the room.

“Very funny.” Mario grumbled under his breath.

“Say what you want, I think it’s hilarious.” Marco smiled, struggling not to laugh.

“Come on, Mario! Take it with a pinch of humor! You must admit, it’s smart.” Kevin came to pat the youngster’s shoulder and apologize at the same time.

“The problem is that I do.” Mario lifted his head, with a great grin on his face. And that was it: the next second the whole room burst out laughing.

 

Half an hour later they all were before their usual meeting (and drinking) place. The sign on the door read _CLOSED_ , but Kevin pushed it open nonetheless, a loud cheer welcoming the team.

“Here’s to the winners!” The owner yelled, and suddenly big glasses of beer appeared out of nowhere in front of them.

He clearly felt honored that the Borussia Dortmund squad decided to celebrate their victory in his pub. But when Marco and Mario entered, his expression changed in a second and started off their way.

“Sorry, but this is no place for traitors!” He rushed at Mario.

Marco couldn’t believe his ears, and by their looks, his teammates were equally stunned by what had happened. Marco wanted to say something, but all the words that came to his mind were either too impolite or were stuck in his throat. Mario had blanched and was as white as a dead body.

“I hope it’s just a stupid joke that no one gets, Friedrich!” Kevin faced the owner. Marco had never seen him so angry.

“I’m sorry, Kevin, but _he_ can’t stay here. It’s a pact among BVB-pubs. It’s bad for business.” He explained. _This can’t be true_ , Marco thought. He didn’t care about any cautiousness; he reached for Mario’s hand and squeezed it. He was sure that the midfielder would have collapsed otherwise.

“Oh, really? How about a punch in your face? Is _that_ good for business?” Kevin shouted, already swinging his hand.

“That’s enough, Kevin.” Mario didn’t manage more than a powerless whisper. “I don’t want to ruin this night. If I’m not welcome, I’ll leave.”

“No, Mario! We’ll all leave. Come on, guys!” Mats stepped forward then started toward the door, to give emphasis to his words.

“Wait!” The owner cried out, understanding his situation. No matter how much would it harm his public image among the diehard Dortmund supporters, keeping Mario out wasn’t worth losing the whole team’s favor. “It’s alright, I’m sorry for this– _mishap_.”

“I guess our drinks are on the house, then?” Kevin asked, his hand now down.

The owner nodded resigned, and the atmosphere got a bit more pleasant, but nothing could erase the memory of the accident. However, a few beers seemed to make the most of the players forget about it for the time being.

Marco and Mario sat down in a corner, out of sight, but the owner’s hostile eyes found Mario over and over again. Marco still couldn’t quite process what had happened. He had known about the loyalty of the Dortmund fans, but this was something different. It wasn’t ‘true love’; it was pure hatred and madness. How could they suddenly go from loving and even deifying Mario to loathing him?

“How are you guys doing?” Mats stopped by them.

“Great. Doesn’t it look like that?” Mario said irritated.

“Whoa, go easy on me. I’m on your side.” Mats reassured him. “Hey, listen, if you want to leave, just say so and we’ll find some other place.”

“No.” Mario massaged his temples. “It’s okay. Go enjoy yourselves, I’ll be alright.”

Mats looked questioningly at Marco, and the winger nodded. The defender turned around and rejoined the group of Schmelle, Sebastian and Mani, who were listening amused to a story from Ilkay.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” Marco tried to make Mario speak. He reached for his hand, but the midfielder pulled it away.

“Not here! What if someone sees us?”

“I don’t care what this shithead sees or says!” Marco hissed, but it didn’t seem to change Mario’s mind. “Under the table?” He tried, and the younger one nodded in agreement.

Their hands found each other and their fingers entangled. Mario’s felt strangely cold, as if all signs of strength left them. Marco buried his other hand under the tabletop, wrapping Mario’s hands between his, trying to warm them.

“Don’t care about him, Mario. He can think whatever he wants to, you made the right choice.” The midfielder hung his head low; Marco’s words hadn’t had any effect on him. “Do you want to go?” The winger asked him worried.

Mario nodded, barely noticeably. “But you stay, I’ll call a taxi.”

“I’ll take you home.” Marco reassured him. “I’ll just tell Mats.” He got up, but Mario held him back.

“No, please. They would ask me to stay or they would go to some other place, and I don’t want that. Let them celebrate. It’s me who fucked up, no reason to make them bear the consequences.”

Marco wanted to slap Mario for even thinking like this, but that would definitely ruin the midfielder’s already horrible evening. He nodded instead and went to the counter to ask whether there was a backdoor exit. The owner showed him the way and a minute later they both slipped out, unnoticed.

The night was chilly, so Marco turned on the heating in the car as soon as they got in. He sent a brief message to Mats about them leaving, so they wouldn’t look for them and then he turned to Mario. The midfielder was staring out of the windshield, tears running down his face, crying silently.

“Hush, Mario.” He embraced him then wiped the tears from his face with his thumb. “You didn’t do anything bad. You must know that.”

Mario didn’t say a word, just nodded heavily, swallowing his tears and pain. Marco thought that this all was unfair to him; he wasn’t Dortmund’s exclusive commodity, he shouldn’t have been treated so. He couldn’t understand the fans: they should have been supporting him. No matter how betrayed they felt, they shouldn’t have been doing this. It hadn’t been half as hard for him when leaving Mönchengladbach.

Mario’s flat was dead silent, every single step they made echoed between the walls. Marco held Mario, because it looked like the midfielder would collapse any moment without his support. They stumbled into the younger one’s bedroom, and Mario immediately fell down on the bed.

“I should have drunk much more.” He mumbled, rubbing his forehead.

“I don’t think you’d say that tomorrow morning.” Marco smiled. “Just relax and try to forget what happened today evening. Well, not the match, but the pub. Close your eyes and sleep.”

“You won’t leave, me, right?” Mario asked, his voice shaking.

“No, I’ll be right here when you wake up.” Marco caressed his side.

“I don’t mean that. You’ll never turn your back on me, no matter what?”

Marco leant forward and kissed Mario. “You know I couldn’t do that. I’d be mad to even try. But now, sleep, _love_.” He whispered, taking Mario in his arms and the brunette willingly let him to. Mario’s heavy breathing soon soothed and was replaced with deep, calm breaths.

 

Marco woke up to an unnatural cold feeling in the early morning. He was still wearing his clothes from the day before, now totally wrinkled. But what really troubled him was the empty bed next to him. He got up hurriedly and rushed out of the room, looking for Mario. He found him sitting on his couch, crouching over his laptop, in the same gloomy state Marco had last seen him.

“What are you doing, Mario?” He asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Come and see.” Mario’s voice lacked any emotions.

Marco walked over him, first gave him a ‘good-morning peck’ on his cheek then took a look at the computer’s display.

“Your Facebook page?” He lifted his eyebrows.

“The most liked page of a German football player. At least, once.” He opened a new tab that showed a drastically falling graph of the number of likes. “But at least I’ve got a few thousand really nice messages on my wall; most of them asking me to do with myself the thing that you do to me at nights. My favorite is this picture though.”

He showed Marco a picture that portrayed Mario accepting what looked like a plastic bag full of silver from Uli Hoeneß. A few comments suggested that Judas was an amateur compared to Mario. Marco had had enough of it. He reached out and slammed the laptop lid.

“That’s it! You’re stopping this, right now!”

“It’s easy for you; you aren’t the number one enemy!” Mario cried out, on the edge of a breakdown.

“And you aren’t either!” Marco shouted. “At least not to the ones that really matter. Or do you disagree?” He was furious at Mario for being super-sensitive about things that he shouldn’t have cared about at all. “These haters don’t interest anyone!”

“I wish it was true.” Mario whispered.

“Well, it depends only on you.” Marco got up, grabbing Mario’s arm. “Come on, I’m making us some breakfast.”

Marco’s pancakes didn’t do wonders, but the winger gathered that they had lifted Mario’s spirits at least a bit. All the young midfielder needed was to feel loved and Marco was willing to do everything in his power to make him do so.

“Have you talked to your parents since the news became public?” He asked while washing the dishes. Mario was staring blankly at the tabletop.

“No, why would I?” He looked like he just woke from one nightmare into another.

“So that’s what we will do after training.” Marco nodded determined.

“Look, Marco, I know you mean good, but I don’t want to talk to them right now and listen to how I’m methodically ruining my whole life.” He sighed.

“Well, you’ve got a nice opinion on them.” Marco said sarcastically.

“Only about my father.” It was the first time Mario smiled a little that day. And it also turned out to be the only time.

 

 * * * *

 

“I can’t believe this!” Mario exclaimed as he walked to his car. Marco rushed next to him and noticed immediately that the midfielder was upset about a flat rear tire.

“It’s okay, I’ll take you to training.” Marco shrugged his shoulder.

“No, you don’t understand. Someone pierced it deliberately.” Mario shook his head.

“I don’t think so.” Marco insisted. He crouched down to take a closer look and saw that Mario was right. There was a hole in the tire, and a few other stabs as well. “I know a service station; they will change it by afternoon.” He stood up, giving up.

“Thanks.” Mario nodded, fallen into a gloomy mood.

Marco had hoped that the training would make him forget about all the atrocities he had to go through lately, and their teammates did everything they could, but it wasn’t enough. At the end of the training, Mario still was his depressed self. Marco took him to the service station, so he could get his car they had repaired in the meantime. Since they both were by car, they agreed to go to their own houses, and meet in the evening. But just as Marco got home, Mario called him.

“I’m listening.” Marco answered his phone in his usual way.

“Hey, Marco. Could you come over, please?” Mario was agitated.

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?” Marco had a lump in his throat.

“Yes, I’m fine. But I need you. Please, hurry!” Mario begged then hung up.

Marco didn’t know what was going on, but Mario’s voice was more than enough to make him distressed. What could have happened? Another harm was done to him? Did someone hurt him? The questions kept coming as he rushed out the door and sprung in his car. He started the engine and started off to Mario’s, disobeying every possible rule.

It took him half the normal time to get there, but it was still enough to make him shake from worry and stress. If anything had happened to Mario, he couldn’t bear it. He didn’t ring the doorbell, he grabbed the spare keys he got from the midfielder instead and rushed into the house, up the stairs, only stopping before Mario’s door. _Alright, I need to calm down for Mario’s sake_ , he told himself before he knocked. Mario opened the door in no time and Marco saw that he was twice as troubled as him.

“Come on in!” Mario led him to the living room, where Marco spotted–

“Felix?” He recognized the curled up figure on Mario’s couch.

“Marco, what are you doing here?” The young boy got up, trying to compose himself, but Marco could still see his eyes were red from crying.

“What happened?” He asked from Mario, not expecting any answer from the younger one. Someone hurt Felix for Mario’s decision? Blaming and hating the midfielder was one thing, but punishing his brother for it was something completely different and unacceptable.

“What? Did _you_ call him?” Felix called Mario to account. He was a smart kid, it didn’t take him long to deduce what was going on. But he clearly didn’t want others – strangers, and especially an idol of his – to see him weak. He shared that characteristic with Mario.

“Relax, Felix. He can help you.”

“Is there anyone caring to tell me what’s happened?” Marco felt completely unknowing.

“Felix had training in the afternoon and his teammates insulted him– because of my transfer.” He added totally needlessly.

“Well, thanks.” Felix grumbled.

“What? This can’t be true!” Marco exclaimed.

“It is.” Mario nodded as if Marco wouldn’t believe him otherwise. “And it’s all my fault.”

“Stop that, Mario!” Marco scolded him. One Götze to pity was more than enough to deal with. “Not everything has to be your fault. As for you, Felix–” He turned to the younger boy. “I think you should talk to your coach, I’m sure he’ll stop them.”

“It would just make things worse.” Felix shook his head. He was right. Marco remembered how the ‘coach’s favorite’ had been treated.

“Then maybe we can talk to Watzke. He could find a way– put you into another group of players or something.” Marco tried.

“That’s even better!” Felix sighed sarcastically but yet, impressed. Marco found it strange at first but then he realized that speaking with the club’s CEO was only natural to him, to Felix it must have seemed like talking to a higher power.

“Alright, I’m out of ideas.” Marco gave up.

“It’s no problem. I must take it for now. They’ll stop sooner or later, I guess.” He said resigned. “But please, don’t tell it Dad or Mom!” He turned to Mario. “They’d try to find me another club, and I don’t want that.”

“He reminds me of someone.” Marco mumbled under his breath with a lopsided smile.

“Oh, shut up!” Mario hushed him. “Let’s go, Felix. I’m taking you home. And don’t worry, we will figure out something.” He reassured him.

The two brothers started to get ready for leaving and Marco stood in the hall vacillating. _What should I do_ , he sent a look to Mario, who signalized _‘stay’_ with his hand.

By the time the midfielder got back, Marco had cooked some pasta for them and did the washing up. It was unbelievable how many plates and glasses had Mario used since morning.

“How is he?” Marco inquired as Mario got out of his shoes.

“He’s going to be fine, I think.”

“What about you?”

“Outraged.” Mario sighed. “I mean, I get it that some hate me for my decision. But I’d have never imagined that they’d hurt my family. It’s just not right. And the worst thing is that these are complete strangers. It would be better if they at least had faces. Like Kevin– it wasn’t easy to take his outburst, but I know him, I understood him. But what do I do about shadows?”

“Well, first of all, we should eat something and then come up with a solution for Felix’s problem. Before you find the hidden poet in yourself.” Marco suggested and Mario accepted his proposition with laughter.

And Marco was right again. The dinner cooled his nerves down and he was again able to think rationally.

“Thank you, it was delicious as always.” He kissed Marco after he finished his third serving.

“I’m getting afraid that if I keep cooking for you, it’ll ruin your lines.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got enough exercise to keep me in shape.” Mario said laughing.

Five minutes later they were sitting in the living room, Marco resting his arm on Mario’s shoulder, while the younger one snuggled to the winger. The TV was on, it was some stupid crime show that Marco thought were all the same, but Mario seemed to like them. Not this time though, Marco could see that his mind was somewhere else.

“So what should we do about Felix’s problem?” Marco tried to address the elephant in the room.

“I don’t know. He insisted that we don’t need to do anything, that it would be okay, but I don’t want him to suffer because of me.”

“Okay, first of all, it’s not your fault. And secondly, we ought to do something. But we can’t speak to the coach; it would definitely make Felix’s life hell.”

“I’m out of ideas. I don’t know what the right step in such situations is, I’ve never been bullied.”

“Well, me neither– at least, not that much.” Marco mumbled.

“What?” Mario sat up straight, turning to Marco. “You were bullied? Why haven’t you told me about it?”

“It was nothing, Mario.” Marco smiled. “Everyone thought I was too frail to be a footballer, so I was an easy prey.”

“Why haven’t you told me about that?”

“It’s the past Mario and I don’t care about it anymore. It didn’t leave traumas; there are no hard feelings in me. I guess in a way, it even helped me. I wanted to prove them wrong, and here I am. I guess I’ve sent a message.”

“You’re a genius!” Mario cried out and gave a passionate kiss to his boyfriend.

Marco was confused. He saw the same expression Mario had whenever he had a good idea (or he thought he had one), but the midfielder didn’t tell him what it was. And he didn’t tell him the next day either, so Marco was really surprised when Mario took him to an unfamiliar place after training.

“What are we doing here?” Marco asked. They were near to a football training center, Marco could see that.

“Sending a message.” Mario muttered.

“What?” Marco was confused.

“It’s the youth team’s training ground.” Mario explained.

“You want to talk to Felix’s trainers?”

“No. I’m going to talk to the boys directly. But I have to catch them while they are bullying him, so it won’t seem like he told me. What do you think?”

“I think it’s a horrible idea. I mean– are you even allowed to go in there?”

“Not me. _Us_.” Mario corrected him. “You’re coming with me.”

And before Marco could object, Mario got out of the car, and the winger had no other choice but to follow him. They sneaked into the building, unnoticed by the receptionist. Marco felt like he was doing a very bad thing, even if he did it for a good cause.

“Where now?” He asked.

“How would I know?” Mario whispered. He was clueless.

“You should have thought it more through.” Marco grumbled then turned around and walked to the receptionist. “Excuse me, could you tell me where I can find the locker rooms?”

“Third door to the left on that corridor.” He showed him instinctively before he realized who he was talking to. “Oh my god! Aren’t you Marco Reus?”

“Yes, I am.” He nodded and walked back to Mario casually. “Follow me.” He led the way.

They couldn’t miss the door to the locker room, as there were loud voices of young boys coming from behind it. Marco couldn’t help it but wonder how on earth they could have so much energy after training. Back in his time, he wouldn’t have been able to move a single finger, he was so washed-out.

“Hey, Götze! When can we expect you to stab us in the back just like your brother?” A rousing voice drowned out every other sound.

“Yeah, my father last night said he’s a cocksucker!” Someone joined the teasing and was followed by laughter. Marco had to try his best not to giggle at the irony of it all. If only they knew how right that father was, even if he didn’t mean to be.

Just a minute later Felix rushed out of the room, but stopped in bewilderment when he noticed Mario and Marco. Marco peeped in through the door’s opening and saw a lot of dropped jaws. They indeed had caused a sensation with their presence.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m taking you home. That is, if you’re willing to sit in a car with a ‘cocksucker’.” Mario said just loud enough to be heard inside, and Marco could see a face turn red in the locker room.

“I– I’m sorry.” The boy stammered in a high-pitched voice. “I didn’t mean to–”

“Well, of course you didn’t.” Mario smiled, but his voice was irritated. “I advise you to think before you say something next time. It might put you into unwanted situations.”

Marco couldn’t believe his ears, but Mario’s words (or rather threats) certainly had an effect. The midfielder got Felix’s bag then turned around and started off. His brother soon followed him obediently and Marco mirrored them too, shaking his head and laughing silently.

“Herr Reus!” Marco turned around to see a startled young boy, holding a pen and a sheet of paper. “Can I get your autograph?”

“Sure.” Marco nodded and walked back.

By the time they caught up to the Götze brothers, they were getting into the car: Mario satisfied with himself, Felix furious. Marco sighed; it was time again to be the peacemaker between them.

“I thought I was being clear when I told you not to do anything about them!” Felix shouted as soon as Mario started the engine.

“And you should know me better.” Mario retorted.

“Great! Now my life will be pure hell, thank you very much!”

“Oh, shut up, will you! I just helped you! I don’t think those shitheads will tease you again.”

“Hey, hey! Careful with your words!” Marco intervened. “I kind of liked the autograph kid.” He added to ease the tension.

“That’s Sven. He’s a good friend.” Felix explained.

“Yet, he didn’t stand by you.” Mario snorted.

“Mario, stop that!” Marco had enough of him. “We get it, you’re the caring big brother that saved the day from young children, congrats on that. And you!” He turned to Felix. “Stand up for yourself! Don’t let them do whatever they want to do with you! And after you calmed down, maybe thank your brother.”

He leant back in his seat satisfied. He had given both of them something to think about, so at least he could enjoy a ride in silence which was by far better than listening to them arguing like small kids – which, okay, Felix was one, but Mario really needed to grow up.

“Care to tell me what this all was about?” He asked Mario after they took Felix home.

“What do you mean?”

“Threatening kids.”

“I didn’t want to threaten him. I just wanted to send a message, like you said.”

“Nice little message.”

“Okay, I’ve got carried away a bit. But I’ve given a face to the enemy. And he doesn’t look so scary anymore.”


	24. Three Last Chances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing but the last chapter left. This one isn't really a single chapter with a continuous plot, but three separate scenes on the same topic, so in a way they are connected after all. They might seem glommy at first, but I hope you can find the small promising hints hidden in between. :)  
> And once again: feedback is welcome and appreciated!

It should have been perfect; with the Champions League remaining the only title they could win for their club everything should have worked out. They would have deserved it. Mario was eager to prove everyone that he was still a Dortmund player. Marco didn’t know what had happened. All he noticed was that suddenly Mario was on the sidelines, explaining something to the team doctors, pointing hurt at his thigh. And then Kevin was substituted for the brunette.

At half-time, Mario reassured him it was nothing and asked him to concentrate on the match, but he couldn’t really do so. They went on to lose the game, but it still moved them to the Final. Marco was of course happy, but his joy didn’t last long. After the game he was told the diagnosis: hamstring tear. Marco wasn’t a doctor but he didn’t need to be one to know it was not an everyday issue. It wasn’t an injury with a four-to-six-weeks prognosis. Mario’s season was over.

“You’ll see, I’ll be on the pitch in Wembley and we will finally show the word that we can beat Bayern.” Mario insisted for the thousandth time. Maybe he hoped that if he kept saying it, he would believe it and then it would become reality.

They were in their hotel room. Originally they had been accommodated in different rooms, but after Mario’s unfortunate semi-final, Kloppo reassigned them and Marco changed with Ilkay. Maybe the coach had thought that he could comfort the youngster, but Marco could only smile bitterly at his words, swallowing down his tears. He knew that Mario’s hopes were useless, but he couldn’t shatter his dreams. If it helped Mario through accepting his injury, Marco was willing to play along.

“I know.” He nodded to entertain Mario’s optimism.

“No, I mean it! I’ll be there! I’m just sorry for the game in the weekend. I’ve wanted to play against Bayern so I could send a message to my haters, but that’s gone. Or maybe I could play after all!”

He was talking like a madman, Marco realized and it made him more sorrowful. He had never seen his boyfriend so desperate and it disturbed him. He didn’t know what to do. He was too weak to dismiss his illusions, but he couldn’t let him believe in something that simply wasn’t going to happen.

“I’ll go down for a coffee, do you want something?” He sighed. He needed some time away from Mario to sort out his thoughts.

“You can order one from here.” Mario lifted his eyebrow questioningly.

Marco didn’t answer anything. He _couldn’t_. Anything would have made Mario realize that Marco wanted to get away from him. So he did the worst thing possible: turned around and left without a word. As soon as he stepped to the hallway, he broke down in tears. He leant against the wall with his back and slowly slid down, burying his face in his eyes.

He hated himself. He should have had the strength to support his boyfriend. Right now he should have been next to Mario, holding him in his arms, protecting him from any other harm. And yet, he was sitting on the floor, sobbing like a baby. Only one question circled his mind: _why?_ Why had it to be always them? Just when they got together, strengthened by all the wrongdoings of the past weeks, something like this happened. Why couldn’t they celebrate a trophy together? Marco had gone over it so many times: him providing the assist and Mario netting the winning goal. And now it was just a dream that would never become true.

“Marco?” An unsure voice startled him.

He lifted his head and saw Mats on the other end of the hallway. The defender started off his way, only realizing Marco’s distress when he got really close.

“What’s happened? You should be celebrating right now. Or are those tears of joy?” Marco couldn’t say a word, his throat was hurting. In the end, he only shook his head, another wave of sorrow washing over him. “Here, let me help you up.”

Mats bent forward and grabbed him under his shoulders, but the winger was unwilling to move or be moved. Mats gave up after three efforts. He sighed and sat down next to Marco, clasping the other man’s arm and pulling him closer.

“What’s wrong?” He whispered. “Tell me, it will be better.”

“I can’t bear it anymore, Mats!” Marco whined in utter pain. “He’s leaving and we didn’t accomplish anything. It feels like we haven’t even truly lived together. And now he’s lying there and expects me to tell him that everything’s going to be fine– but I can’t do it. Not when I don’t believe it! When I wake up next to him, all I can think of is that soon I’ll be alone in my bed. Alone in the world.”

Mats listened to him in silence, patting his shoulder. He wished he could have solaced him, but he couldn’t fool Marco. Both of them knew that those would be only empty words.

“Have you told him?” He asked finally. Neither of them heard Mario carefully opening the door next to them and starting to listen to their conversation.

“No. It would break his heart. He’s already unsure about his decision and I don’t want to trouble him any more. I’ll just find a way to deal with the situation.”

“Pretending never works, Marco. You should tell him how you feel. He’s a grown man, there’s no need for you to protect him. It’s not your job.” Mats argued.

“I know, but still– What kind of a boyfriend am I? I should be happy for him getting the chance of his lifetime, but all I can think of is me. How much it hurts me to see him go. And sometimes I think it’s my fault. That I couldn’t hold him back. That he’s leaving because I wasn’t enough for him. That he’s not leaving for Bayern, but for Ann-Kathrin.” He uttered the dread that had been eating him for the past days.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard from you and you’ve said not just one. Listen, Marco! He wants to make the next step in his career. If it had to do anything with you, he wouldn’t have cared for your relationship! He could have dumped you at the first occasion. But he didn’t. Because he loves you and you know that you’re totally crazy about him too.”

“Yeah, that’s all nice and good, but will it be enough? I don’t think our love can last. Not in the middle of all this.” He shook his head.

“Good for you that you look so helpless, otherwise I’d slap you right now. Where’s the Marco Reus I know? The one that always fights and never gives up?” Mats sprung up in a fraction of a second and Mario stepped back startled. Fortunately, the defender didn’t notice him. “You’re going to talk to Mario, right now!” Mats ordered, but Marco didn’t seem to hear him. The older one shook his head in rage. “You’re pathetic!” He cried out, giving up on his teammate and turning around.

Marco just sat there with blank eyes, processing Mats’s words. The defender was right, he had to do something. He didn’t want to afflict Mario, but if he kept his pain in him, it would drive him crazy. He hauled off and got up; wiping his tears and mustering all the strength he had left to face his boyfriend. _Did I leave the door open?_ , he wondered as he entered the room. But when he saw the curled up figure of Mario in great pain – mental not physical – he instantly knew it wasn’t him.

“I’m sorry, Marco.” Mario stammered. “I heard you talking to someone and I didn’t want to, but–”

“It’s okay, Mario. I should have told you a lot sooner. But you seemed finally be over with those harassments, and I couldn’t bring myself to bring you down. I didn’t want to hurt you, that’s the only reason, I swear. Believe me, I did it for you.”

“I know, Marco. But why? Why didn’t you tell me how sad you were? You convinced me that you were happy for me and I believed you. Was it all just pretending?”

“No, it wasn’t. I am happy for you, but I can’t show it honestly. Not when another part of me fears the moment you will fly away. It’s just so fucked up, Mario!” His words made Mario think for minutes.

“Why didn’t you tell me you don’t want me to leave, Marco?” He spoke up. “I would have said no.”

“Because I don’t want you to give up your dreams for me, Mario. I couldn’t ask for that.” Marco muttered. He stepped next to Mario’s bed and the midfielder sat up to face him.

“ _You_ are all I could ever dream of.” Mario said, cupping Marco’s face in his hands.

“Don’t say that, Mario!” Marco pulled away.

“Then what about when you said we would never lose each other?”

“I stopped believing it.” Marco hung his head. He had never realized how much he had lied to Mario and now, when he faced the extent of his pretense, he felt ashamed.

“Come here, Marco!” Mario reached out an arm for him. The winger grasped his hand and sat down next to him, Mario cuddling to him. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. Apart from football and my family you are everything to me. The connection between us is– special. I have never experienced something like that. I don’t want to give you false hope. I don’t know whether it will work or not. Whether _we_ will work or not. But I know one thing for sure: I want to try it.”

“I’m so afraid, Mario! I’m afraid!” Marco cried out, burying his face in Mario’s chest, sobbing like the defenseless child he was at that moment.

 

 * * *

 

Mario’s diagnosis was confirmed the next day, after they got back to Dortmund. The doctor told Mario clearly that there was no chance for him to play in the Champions League Final. The young midfielder accepted the news with long silence and it took him a few days to come to terms with it. He spent his days at home, while it hurt him to see Marco leave for training every morning. But at least he had a lot of time to think. They hadn’t talked about Marco’s feelings ever since that evening in Madrid.

Mario never questioned his boyfriend’s affection. He knew the winger loved him to bits, he only dreaded the end of the season. And Mario could understand him. He would have never admitted it, but he startled awake of nightmares almost every night. He was standing in the middle of a football pitch, unfamiliar faces staring at him. Suddenly thousands of strangers started running toward him, the wave of the mass swallowing him. He tried to get away, but a dozen hands grabbed his arm and held him back. And then he noticed Marco sitting on the stands. He cried out his name, but the winger would only laugh at him and turn his head away. Mario couldn’t make anything out of this dream, or rather, he didn’t want to accept the obvious explanation.

“I’m back!” Marco announced as he entered the flat.

Mario couldn’t help but think how domestic they had become in the last days despite the tension between them. Maybe it was their unconsciousness that instructed them to put away every problem and enjoy fully the last days they had together. Mario had to swallow at that thought. Yes, at the end of May he was leaving to Munich, and he should have already accepted this fact, but whenever he remembered that he was going to leave behind his family, the team and Marco, he asked himself whether he had made the right decision. And sometimes the answer would be no.

“Everything’s fine?” Marco asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Yes.” Mario nodded. The winger stepped forward to kiss him on the forehead. Mario breathed in his scent. Marco had just returned from a tiring training, but there was no sign of that on him. He looked and smelled like he had just come out of a shower. Maybe that was the reason Mario fell in love with him: he always looked fabulous. Well, it certainly had been _one_ of the reasons.

“No dinner like usual?” Marco asked sarcastically. Mario smiled. They did that every day. He would come _home_ – that word again – and would remind the brunette of his non-existent culinary skills.

“I’m a gracious god.” Mario retorted, what made them both laugh. It was all so bittersweet; like some stupid Hollywood movie depicting a seemingly perfect family life with shitty jazz music in the background, but the viewer knew that a bomb had been planted and it was ready to go off anytime.

“You know, sometimes I wonder whether you won’t starve to death in Munich.” Marco said without thinking. And there it was: the bomb exploded.

“Marco, we need to talk.”

“About what?”

“About our future, Marco. What will we do? How will we deal with the new situation?”

“What’s there to discuss? You’ll be leaving soon, and I’ll stay here.” Marco’s apathy nearly killed Mario. Had they really become so estranged from each other without Mario noticing? For the winger the talk was apparently over as he turned around and left the room.

“Marco, wait!” He tried to spring up, but his splint wouldn’t let him. “ _Shit!_ ” He cried out as a sudden pain ran over his body.

“Are you alright?” Marco reappeared in a split second with worry in his eyes.

“Yes. But talk to me, please. I don’t want things to stay like this between us. It’s killing me.”

“You’re right.” Marco slumped down on the couch, next to Mario. The young midfielder instantly grabbed his hands as if to make sure he would stay there. “I’m sorry. I’ve lied to you and I’ve been misleading you for the last weeks. But I didn’t know what to do, Mario. There are two feelings in me. Firstly, I’m happy for you. I am. But on the other hand, I can’t support you wholly. I can’t do the first thing to you and the other to myself.” He shook his head.

“Oh, Marco!” Mario sighed, hugging the older one. “I haven’t expected you to do so. I just want you to be yourself. I know how hard it must be for you. What am I saying– I can’t even imagine how hard it must be. But you don’t have to deal with it. At least, not alone. I’m here for you, I’ll always be.”

Marco buried his face in Mario’s chest, tears flowing down his cheeks. “It would be so nice to believe it, Mario, but I can’t. I want to trust _us_ , but honestly: what chance do we have?”

“Who cares about chances?” Mario started after a few seconds silence. “What chance did we have to stay together this long at all? What chance did we have to get into the final? This season was all about beating the odds for us.”

“You make it sound so simple.” Marco looked at Mario.

“It won’t be. But together we can overcome any hardship. And let’s just enjoy the time we are still next to each other.”

 

 * * *

 

Mario was right. There was no point in dreading the moment they would say their goodbyes, and let it prevent them enjoying the weeks that still separated them from it. So they were good again. Not as good as at the beginning of their relationship, but Marco thought they’d never be like that exactly. He started to believe that their romance was slowly but certainly dying. It might have sounded mad, but he still wanted to go all the way through it. Maybe it would hurt him and hurt him bad, but Mario’s eyes, the feel of his lips wandering all over his body, their passionate kisses, the soft moans in the night, the way they fell asleep in each other’s arms made it all worth.

And after that May evening there was nothing else left for him. He hated Bayern. He hated them for brushing away all his dreams: becoming a German champion, holding the German Cup, becoming the best of the bests, but most importantly, having Mario by his side for the rest of his life. That late goal, the look on Robben’s face was unbearable for the blond. He couldn’t wait for the moment he could get back to his hotel room and fall asleep. They were leaving in the morning and there was going to be a reception from the fans in their home stadium. _Great! Thousands of people expecting a glorious team but left with a bunch of failing losers._ He didn’t want to think about his teammates this way, but the letdown was too big for him to care. He couldn’t even care that in the hotel room he had to face the last person anyone connected to BVB wanted to see: Mario Götze.

The brunette sat on the bed, watching Marco getting ready for sleep angrily. He didn’t know what he should do. He was afraid that anything would upset the winger even more, and would definitely kill their romance plus their friendship. But seeing his boyfriend so crushed, his every moment lacking any passion or lust for life was heartbreaking.

“Say something, Marco.” He uttered quietly. “How much do you hate me?”

“I don’t _hate_ you, alright?” The older one burst out, his voice contradicting every single word he had said. “I’m just tired and want to get some sleep. Maybe I would wake up and it would still be the day before the Final and it would all turn out to be a nightmare.” He sighed.

“It won’t.” Mario whispered, not to Marco particularly. “It’s the worst possible scenario. You should have gotten one over on Bayern.”

“Don’t talk like that!” Marco yelled at him. “Don’t treat me like a pathetic loser!”

“No, I didn’t mean to–”

“Leave it be, Mario.” Marco cut him short. “It won’t change a single thing.”

Marco got rid of all his clothes but his boxers and got under the covers. He kept staring at the ceiling expressionlessly. Mario sighed and started to prepare himself for sleep. Originally they got a two-bedded room, but the first thing they did was pushing them together. _Not the best idea_ , Mario thought. He took a shower then joined Marco. They didn’t say anything; the silence in the room was broken only by an occasional shout from the corridor by their teammates.

“Let’s come out.” Mario whispered blankly.

“What?” Marco propped himself up on one elbow and looked at the midfielder as if he couldn’t quite believe what he had just heard.

“Let’s come out. Let’s tell the whole world that we are together!” Mario spoke this time with more enthusiasm. Marco burst out laughing, what surprised Mario. What was so funny about the idea?

“Mario, no.” Marco said still fighting his laughter.

“Why not? Are you ashamed of me?”

“No, but you’re only proposing it to make me feel better. Because you think it’s your fault that I feel awful because of the match. But don’t worry; tomorrow morning I’ll be the all-wonderful boyfriend I used to be.”

“No offense, but you kind of failed to be the same for the last couple of weeks.” Mario muttered.

“Nothing ever will be the same, Mario! But it doesn’t have to be. We were never close to a ‘normal’ relationship anyway. And we will never be. You want to come out because you shit yourself by even thinking that you’ll be a Bayern player soon and you’ll flop. And you think that you made a mistake by joining them and hope that a gay couple would cause such uproar that Bayern would let you stay at Dortmund.” Mario listened to him with dropped jaw. Marco read him like an open book.

“No, I mean it. I want everyone to know that you’re mine and I’m yours.”

“Oh, really?” Marco started with a cynic voice. “Then what about Ann-Kathrin? Why did you need her?”

“She was just because of my agent.” Mario stammered.

“Right. Mario, I’m not stupid. You love her. Maybe not the way you love me, but still– You could have dumped her so many times. You should have dumped her. And yet, you’re still together.”

Mario was speechless; mostly because Marco was right. And whenever they had a fight he had a trump card in Ann-Kathrin. “Just like you.” He said.

“What?” Marco asked confused.

“It’s the same with you and me. _You_ should have dumped me so many times. The whole year I did nothing but hurt you. Why?”

“It’s not that simple. You can’t hurt me.” Marco snorted. “No matter what you do, I can’t be mad at you. Not for long. I’m not mad at you for Ann-Kathrin. I’m not mad at you for leaving. It’s just a situation I don’t know what to do about.”

“You keep telling this and then you do something else. You try to avoid me; you don’t talk to me and behave like I’d ruined your whole life.” Mario was peevish.

“What are you talking about? You can’t expect me to act like nothing had happened. I tried to be as normal as I could. If it’s not enough for you, I’m sorry!” He burst out then turned away from Mario.

“I’m sorry, Marco! I didn’t want to push it.” The younger one crawled closer to him, putting his hand on Marco’s arm, trying to turn him over. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Oh, shut up finally and kiss me! That's the only thing I was looking forward after the match.” Marco cried out and Mario obeyed. Mario would have been satisfied with the kiss only, but after that Marco spoke the words that made him totally certain about their future. “We’re going to be alright.”


	25. A See You Later, Not A Farewell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is, the 'dreaded end', hope you'll like it. It took me some time to finish, especially since I didn't really want the story to end.

Mario’s apartment was full of moving boxes; a view that Marco got used to very quickly. It was easier than he had expected, he even managed to help the brunette pack his belongings. And Mario did need an extra pair of hands; he had a lot of things Marco had never even seen. Packing it all took them almost three days, mainly because sometimes they would just sit in the middle of a half-empty room, talking and suddenly starting to make out. They rarely showed up outside, but no one seemed to miss them. But by the time they were done, Marco felt he knew his boyfriend a lot better.

“Why exactly do you need so many pairs of shoes?” Marco asked as he sealed the fifth box full of Mario’s footwear.

“As if you were different.” Mario gave him a quirk.

“Well, my case is not that serious.” Marco palliated, but thinking of it, Mario had a point. “What’s in that one?” He pointed at a box that had his initials.

“Oh, those are your clothes.” Mario sighed. “I didn’t know what to do with them; if you wanted them back or–”

Marco smiled and got up, walking over to Mario. He embraced the younger one and gave him a wide grin. Mario was obviously uncomfortable, his eyes almost apologetic. He was still brooding over his leaving and Marco could have sworn he was still trying to find a way to turn back time.

“Well, I hoped you would show them Munich.” Marco whispered into Mario’s ears. “Who knows? Maybe one day they might come in handy.”

“Oh, I see.” Mario smiled. “And what about my clothes at your place?”

“I was planning to take them as hostages. So you would have to come back for them.”

“Don’t worry, I will!” Mario laughed.

For a moment everything seemed so perfect and Mario had a prevailing wish never to leave. But there was no turning back. He had made a decision and he knew that he chose wisely. A great opportunity versus the certain everyday life he loved so much. He wanted to play for Bayern, but staying in Dortmund would have meant being with Marco. It wasn’t an easy decision, but no one had told him that it would be.

“What?” Marco asked from a still smiling Mario.

“Nothing. I just realized that I’m a fool.”

“Why’s that? Not again that transfer thing, right?” Marco scolded him.

“No. I just can’t believe I’ve ever thought that we wouldn’t find a way.”

Mario hugged Marco more tightly, pressing his lips against Marco’s. He ran his hands down Marco’s back, tugging at the hem of the winger’s shirt. The blonde deepened the kiss in agreement, pressing his way through Mario’s teeth. The brunette soon broke the contact and started to wander his lips down his boyfriend’s neck. Marco let out a soft moan and hurriedly got rid of his T-shirt. Mario kneeled down and checked out the blonde. His body was perfect. Mario was about to say goodbye to every single bit of Marco, when his phone started ringing.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” The older one asked, his eyes closed.

“No, I don’t want to ruin the moment.” Mario shook his head.

“I think you’re already late for that.” Marco chuckled.

Mario sighed and got up, starting off for his cell. He lifted his eyebrows when he noticed his mother’s picture on the display.

“Yeah?”

“Hello, darling! I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Well, not exactly.” Mario showed a guilty smile.

“Good. I just wanted to make sure you have everything and that you don’t need a helping hand. Maybe I could help you pack up your things?”

“No, Mom thanks. It’s okay, I’m almost done.”

“That’s good to hear. So you can come over for dinner tomorrow, right? We want to see you before you fly away.”

Mario was out of breath. Of course he wanted to go over to his parents to say goodbye properly, but he was planning to spend his last night in Dortmund with Marco. As if her mother read his mind, she continued.

“Of course you should bring Marco with you. I hope he can give us another chance.”

“Yeah, alright, Mom.” Mario stammered, not sure what exactly he said. He hung up the phone and turned around to Marco who had already put back his T-shirt.

“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost!” Marco asked jokingly, but Mario could notice the worry in his eyes.

“My folks are throwing a goodbye party.” He answered more dramatically than necessary.

“Well, enjoy it!” Marco said confused.

“No, they want you there too.” Mario explained.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Marco backed out.

“Marco, please! I couldn’t bear it without you.” Mario begged.

“And it would be bearable with me being there?”

“Give them a chance. Maybe they want to set things straights.”

“Starting with you.” Marco mumbled under his breath.

“What’s wrong with you? What’s this cynicism?”

 _A great way to cope with my heartbreak_ , Marco would have to say if he was being honest. But he had to be strong for Mario for the last days.

“I’m sorry. I’ll go if you want me to.” He sighed finally, swallowing his qualms.

 

 * * *

 

The Götze house looked completely normal, just like the homes next to them. And still, Marco thought of it as a lion’s lair. His heart was beating in his throat when Mario parked his car.

“Relax, everything’s gonna be fine.” Mario smiled and gently caressed his chin.

“I just don’t want you to part with your parents in bad because of me.”

“Well, and I don’t want them to have any hard feelings towards you.” Mario reassured him. “We are here to make peace, remember?”

Marco nodded and they got out of the car. He had hoped that the walk to the front door would take an eternity, but they were there in nearly no time. They stood on the porch for a few seconds, before Mario opened the door and pulled him in.

“You’ve got visitors!” Mario announced as they stepped into the hall.

Soon Mario’s mother ran out of the kitchen, hugging both of them. She was clearly touched by his boy’s visit and the fact that she was about to lose him in a way. She looked at Mario with that look that only mothers had when they look at their small child who’s already grown up but it’s the hardest thing to accept for any parent. She was already fighting back her tears; Mario noticed it immediately and closed her in a tight embrace.

“It’s okay, Mom!” He smiled, patting her shoulders.

“Yes, I know. I’ve promised not to cry today. It’s your big day tomorrow after all.” She said, her words stabbing Marco in his heart over and over again. Then she whispered something Marco couldn’t hear clearly, but Mario nodded. “Unfortunately the dinner isn’t ready yet, so why don’t we take a seat in the living room in the meantime?” She suggested and started off.

Marco and Mario followed her. The parlor was unexplored terrain for Marco but if he had had to give a guess what to expect he would have been pretty much correct: lots of bookshelves, comfortable armchairs, dozens of family photos on the wall. Mr. Götze was sitting in one of the armchairs, reading what looked like an academic journal.

“Oh, you’re already here!” He got up, rushing to his son. “Welcome, Mario. Marco.” He nodded more reservedly towards the winger, who accepted his greeting in the same manner.

“Felix? I’ve brought him a few things he could use.” Mario inquired.

“He’s having training.” Mario’s mother explained. “But he should be here any moment. Sit down, please. Can I bring you anything?”

“No, thanks.” They said at the same time.

They sat down on a leather couch, close to each other. Marco appreciated Mario’s closeness, it gave him strength. Everything suggested that they would have a pleasant evening after all, but he still had an enormous knot in his stomach and Mario’s father’s hostile eyes didn’t make things easier.

“So, are you packed?” Mario’s mother broke the silence.

“Yes, my things are already on their way to Munich.” Mario nodded.

“Good. Do you want us to give you a lift tomorrow to the airport?”

“No thanks, Mom. I’ve already have someone to drive me.”

“Oh, sure. I’m sorry.” She immediately got it.

And that was about it; their conversation that had been awful from the start ended in an even more awkward silence. They kept staring at each other, unspoken words hanging in the air. And in the middle of all that, Marco felt like a stranger. But after all, he was one. It’s not that he had a bad opinion on Mario’s parents; he hadn’t truly come to know them. He had had a quite normal talk with his mother, but that was all. But Mario’s father, he was a completely different story. Marco could relate to him; for some people it was hard to process that their child wasn’t quite ‘normal’.

“I think I’ll go to my room, if it’s okay.” Mario gave up. “Can I leave you here?” He leant closer to Marco and the winger could feel the stabbing look of his father. He agreed with a faint nod.

The brunette got up and left the room. So there Marco was: alone with the last two people he wanted to be with at that moment. He sat stock-still, trying to make as little note of himself as possible. But he still could see Mario’s mother poking her husband numerous times. Mr. Götze finally sighed and spoke up.

“Marco, can I have a word with you?” Before Marco could answer, Mario’s mother already got up and left pleading the dinner. “I know I didn’t make a good first impression, and my second one wasn’t better at all. But I hope you understand that I only cared about Mario and his future. I’m sorry if it looked like I hated you. There are no hostile feelings in me toward you, but I still think your affair or call it anyway you want was a very big risk to take. Fortunately, it turned out to be alright. So what are you planning to do now?”

“I don’t see what you mean.” Marco shook his head.

“Well, now that Mario’s leaving I guess you’re going to terminate your relationship, right?”

Marco couldn’t believe his ears. Just the moment he started to like the man, he came up with this nonsense. Okay, it wasn’t nonsense; moreover it was the logical step to take. But coming from an outsider it sounded so harsh.

“We haven’t decided so. We’ll give it a try.” He gulped.

“Oh.” Mr. Götze realized he had touched a sensitive spot. “I didn’t mean–” He started, but any explanation was useless, so he instantly gave up. “And what about that poor girl? Will you continue to play upon her?”

Ann-Kathrin again. Marco was getting enough of it: Why did everyone think of _her_ and not _him_ as the victim? But Mario’s father’s words left him speechless. What did he have to do with her? It was all Mario’s business.

“I never exploited her. It was your son.”

“Because of you.” The conversation was getting more heated.

“Alright, I think I’ve got enough of it.” Marco hauled off.

“Marco, wait!”

“Don’t worry; I won’t say a word to Mario.” He turned back and left the room.

He had no idea where he was headed. He was practically lost in the house. But as he heard steps approaching from behind he decided to take the stairs. He found himself on a narrow hallway. He started walking toward the single open door among the ones leading into different rooms on both sides.

He spotted Mario standing in the middle of his old room, next to a bed, staring out of the window. The room was quite spacious, not crowded with furniture. Apart from the bed, he saw a wardrobe, a writing desk, a nightstand and a shelf packed with trophies, photos and medals. Marco entered and embraced Mario from behind. He felt a bit guilty about having such an intimate moment in his parents’ house but he needed to have him in his arms.

“What’s wrong?” Mario turned around.

“Nothing.”

“You look upset.”

“I’m not.” Luckily, Mario was too occupied with his own thoughts to notice Marco’s lame attempt at lying.

“This is where it all started.” Mario started and Marco could see that he was in a different dimension. “Before I fell asleep I used to lie here, staring at the ceiling and imagining myself playing football. And on other nights I’d stand before the window, watching the neighbors’. He was an old man and had a TV facing his window that could be seen from here. When my parents wouldn’t let me watch a match, I kind of watched it on his TV.” He smiled at the memory.

“That’s nice.”

“I haven’t realized how hard it will be to leave Dortmund until now. Everything binds me here but I’m flying away anyway. Flying into a different world.”

“Shhh, it’s going to be fine. You will get used to Munich before you know it.” Marco reassured him. Not exactly because he thought so, but because it was what he had to do.

“I’m so sorry Marco! I’ve ruined everything.”

“I thought we agreed that you’d stop apologizing, especially since there is nothing for you to feel sorry for. There’s a bright future ahead of you, Mario! Be blissful about it!”

“Yeah, but what about you? What about us?”

“I will survive. And as long as we don’t stop loving each other, there’s nothing to worry about.” It sounded like a cant, but this time Marco meant it; for the first time. Mario breathed heavily and buried his face in Marco’s neck.

The rest of the evening went relatively well, mostly thanks to Felix, who – after he arrived – took charge, speaking through dinner without a break. Marco smiled at him; Mario must have been somewhat similar when he was Felix’s age: passionate, energetic and a dreamer. He envied the young boy. He still lived in an innocent world, not knowing what exactly it took to become a footballer and he didn’t have any idea how many things he was going to have to forsake in order to be one. No wonder Felix looked so happy and Marco gathered that the bullying and teasing had stopped.

When it was time for them to say their goodbyes, Marco went outside. He wasn’t family and he didn’t want to disturb such a personal moment. The Götzes chose the same way that Mario and he: not everything was okay between them, but they decided not to care about it, hoping that maybe things would sort out themselves. It wasn’t possible and Marco knew it, but sometimes it’s good to believe in the unthinkable.

“Everything’s fine?” Mario found him deep in his thoughts.

“Yes.” Marco nodded. They didn’t say anything else. They walked to Mario’s car and drove off to spend the rest of the night together.

 

 * * *

 

In the end, neither of them slept for a single second. They lay in Mario’s bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, breathing in their love’s scent, buried in their own thoughts. Marco couldn’t have imagined a better way to spend their last joint hours.

Others would have spoken through the whole night, trying to tell everything they wanted to. But it was useless; no words could express what they were going through. It wasn’t something that should have been described, it could only be felt. And they did feel their pain mutually.

Maybe other couples would have made passionate and rough love, so they would remember it until the next time they met. But their relationship was never about sex. They found more comfort in the other one’s arms then in their beds.

And then there were those who would have fallen asleep as soon as possible on their last evening, hoping that when they woke up, it would still be the same day, and the farewell would be far away. But Marco and Mario weren’t that romantic; they grew up in the world of football, ridded of their dreams and visions very early.

And the morning indeed came. They got out of bed with big yawns and sleepless eyes. Some say that you truly value what is really close to your heart the moment you lose it. But as Marco looked at Mario walking to the bathroom, he thought the hours of knowing you’re going to lose it were harder. He put on his clothes from the day before and went to the kitchen to make some breakfast. For the last time; the thought burned the back of his eyes and he had to struggle hard to hold back his tears. But he had to be strong for Mario’s sake for the next few hours, although he thought of them as minutes. The brunette had made it clear that he wanted to see and remember a happy Marco (or at least not a crying one) when he left.

He was just ready when Mario joined him. The midfielder didn’t lift his head and Marco soon found out why when he got a glimpse of Mario’s face. The younger one eyes were red from crying. He wanted to run to him and hug him, try to solace him; but he contained himself. First of all, Mario would never admit it and would have blamed it on his shampoo. Or if he would have admitted that he had been crying, he would have felt even worse for breaking his own rule. So Marco pretended not to notice, something that he had gotten very good at lately.

“What are you doing?” Mario burst out when Marco started to wash the dishes. “I’ve ordered a charwoman to clean the flat. So why don’t we do something else?” His tone and eyes were very suggestive.

“No, Mario.” Marco smiled. There were only two hours left before they had to leave for the airport and somehow he didn’t want to spend them in such instinctive way. “We both know it would result in you missing the plane.”

“What if I told you I wouldn’t mind that?”

“Mario, stop that, please! It’s hard for both of us, but deferring it won’t help.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“Let’s just sit down and enjoy the remaining time.”

Mario mumbled something like he had said the same, but complied nonetheless. They went to the living room and slumped down on his couch. Unspoken words burnt their throats as they stared at each other, but they didn’t want to utter them. They just sat there in silence, Mario resting his head on Marco’s shoulder, trying to remember every single detail about the other one’s body to be able to recall it in lonely evenings.

“I love you so much!” Mario whispered suddenly.

“I know, Mario. And I love you too. Let’s not stop doing it, right?”

“Never.” He kissed Marco. “Whatever happens, I’ll always be yours. Don’t forget that.” Mario looked deep into Marco’s eyes, as if trying to speak directly to his soul. And the winger could have sworn he succeeded. He believed his words and it was the first moment since days that he didn’t feel a grip of fear around his heart.

“And I’ll be yours.” Marco whispered back, just to exhaust every cliché. He had always wondered why every romantic movie had the same lines (not that he watched so many of them), but maybe it was because it was the way it worked in real life. After all, how could a few words express the myriad feelings the heart felt.

They didn’t speak for the next hour, but every feeling and thought of theirs was conceived by the other one. Around ten, Mario got up and went to his room to pack his remaining stuff. He didn’t have much left, only a few clothes and personal things.

“Can we go?” He asked shyly when he returned.

Marco nodded and got up. They left in Mario’s car and drove to the airport in silence. The terminal was almost empty, something that Marco adored in Dortmund; when it wasn’t rush hour, the city made the impression of a small town. And the few people who were waiting for their plane didn’t seem to notice them.

“So here we are.” Mario sighed.

“Yeah.” Marco nodded. He had no idea what they were supposed to do.

“Hey, listen. I was thinking that maybe I could give Felix your number. You know, in case he needed to speak to someone in person about things that– uhm cannot be discussed with parents.”

“Sure.”

“Would you keep an eye on him?”

“Don’t worry about him, Mario. He can take care of himself.” Marco smiled, but when he noticed Mario’s anxious look, he continued. “Of course I will. Just like he was my own brother.”

“Thanks. God, I want to kiss you so much right now.”  He laughed.

“Too bad I must go to the restroom. Why don’t you come with me?”

“No, I’ve been at home.”

“Mario, come with me!” Marco repeated irritated after the midfielder didn’t get him.

They went to the toilet and Mario looked still confused, especially after Marco pulled him in a booth with him.

“I thought you wanted to kiss me.” Marco whispered directly into the midfielder’s ear. And what a kiss it turned out to be; it contained every love they had towards each other, every moment they had gone through. “I know it’s not the most romantic setting–” Marco started after they finished, gasping for air.

“It couldn’t have been better.” Mario cut him short.

They went back to the lobby, where the speakers just announced the start of the check-in for Mario’s plane. As people walked by them, they hugged each other again.

“Should I expect you to run back to me and say how stupid you are and that you’ve changed your mind?” Marco asked jokingly.

“Do you want me to?”

“I’m just kidding, Mario.” They both laughed.

“It’s a see you later, Marco; not a farewell.” Mario said seriously. “We’ll meet again sooner than you’d think.”

“Well, good luck, Mario Götze.” Marco turned formal suddenly. “Make your dreams come true in Munich.”

“Thanks, Marco.” Mario stammered, swallowing down his tears.

They shook hands and then Mario turned around and walked away. Marco couldn’t stand watching him getting further away from him. He turned toward the door that suddenly looked terrifying. He realized he didn’t need to leave Dortmund to have to face the same thing that Mario had to face in Munich: the unknown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank you all once again for your encouraging and motivating comments and kudos, it might sound stupid, but I really couldn't have done it without you. I hope you had as much fun reading this fic as I had writing it.


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